Breaking Walls
by TechnoScribe
Summary: Circumstances, and Rodney’s friends, won’t allow him to keep his past a secret anymore. A veritable McKay Whumpathon! Warning! Spoilers. Lots and lots of Spoilers. Ever so slightly AU. Final chapter posted.
1. Prelude

PRELUDE

The sound of quick typing echoed throughout the school gymnasium which had been set up for final exams only days ago, and was now being used to further test a lone student. It was unusual. Rather than scrawling out the answers or checking boxes in a government issued booklet, the test was being taken on a computer that looked far too 'state of the art' expensive for such a purpose. Odder still, about 50 additional very expensive looking computers had been promised to the school in time for the coming year.

Mrs Jones, the Principal, crossed her arms at the young boy staring intently at the screen, and fumed inwardly.

He was completely focussed on his task, his fingers pausing only briefly over the keyboard when he'd furrow his brow in thought.

It was too strange. Mrs Jones had been working in education long enough to know that the government didn't just hand out computers of that quality – at least not to schools. She also knew that this was not a normal aptitude test that their young Rodney McKay was being asked to take.

Mrs. Jones had been dead-set against fast tracking a twelve year old boy through Junior and then Senior High. Even if he was a prodigy, he was still just a boy. He needed time to develop normally. Now here he was, barely thirteen years old, graduated from High School only days ago, with far too much knowledge about the world and not enough knowledge of himself. All because that damned science fair project had proven that his subject level was well beyond that which they'd been teaching. The school board had decided to let him pick his own pace and get him out of their school before he could frighten anymore parents.

A handful of men being driven in black cars and wearing black suits and black sun-glasses swooped in yesterday, claiming to work for the Department of Education, no less, and wanting to give Rodney an 'Advanced Aptitude Test'. If they were from the Department of Education then her naked arthritic ass was going to be the next Play-boy centre-fold. Those computers felt like a pay-off of some sort.

"Finished!" the too young graduate stood beside his chair, waiting to be dismissed.

Mrs. Jones smiled reassuringly, "Very good Rodney."

Before she could say more, one of the suited men strode into the gymnasium, "Well done Rodney. You finished that much more quickly than we anticipated and scored very high from what we've seen so far." Mrs Jones arched an eyebrow. The man merely smiled placatingly and mouthed the word 'networking' in her direction. Evidently they had been monitoring Rodney from one of those other computers they had brought with them and set up. She'd be glad when all those wires that now trailed down the hallways were gone. These people were definitely not Department of Education.

The boy brightened at the words of praise and the man smiled too broadly and opened an arm to lead the boy – practically dripping snake-oil to Mrs Jones way of thinking. "Come along then. Our graders are just reviewing some of your more creative answers. We'll have the results shortly." Rodney followed the man without hesitation – his too young face displaying only trust. Mrs Jones followed them down the hall to the library and exchanged looks with the schools petite Biology teacher – Miss Stevenson, and the bulky librarian, Mr Lewis. They both nodded to her and followed Rodney into the library. She refused to think of any of the strangers by the names they had provided. They were an obvious fakes. They'd listed themselves alphabetically, for pity sake. Whoever they were, they were that confident that they couldn't be stopped. That was what frightened her most.

Reassured that Rodney was safely supervised she turned back down the hall and hurried to her office, where three more of the school staff were working to confirm the identity of these claimants.

She found the three leaning against her desk. Cheery plants and sun light streaming into the room were a sharp contrast to the look of defeat on the faces of all three. The plump English teacher became their spokes-person, "They're who they say they are."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mrs Jones balked.

He raised a placating hand, "I know!" He motioned to the other two, "We know… but I don't know what else to say. The Department called ahead and told us they were coming. People we KNOW personally in the department told us they were coming. They came with the proper identification. The police say there is nothing they can do, based on all that. We have spent the entire morning calling everyone we can think of. They all corroborate. And we've been told in no uncertain terms that if we call the Head-office again we'll all be up for an early review." He started pacing agitatedly, "Whoever these guys are, they're over our heads and they know it."

Mrs Jones put her hands on her hips and huffed but the other man wasn't finished yet, "Heck, Sylvia here even stalled Rodney outside the school by suggesting there were merits in teaching Creationism in a Biology Class. He ranted for an hour!" Come to think of it, Sylvia did look like she had a head-ache. "We've done everything we can." He sighed, regret clear on his face, "Now we are just going to have to take them at their word and let them do whatever it is they've come to do…with supervision of course…"

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Agent D, today dubbed Mr Douglas, smiled in a fatherly way as he made small talk about responsibility and using ones mental gifts to better the world. The boy had many interests, and much to say about all of them, which was fine as long as they had time to kill. Agent C, Mr Clarke, had a glint of triumph in his eye when he rose from the computer they'd set up in the library. He was finished checking the results of the test, Douglas surmised. And they were positive, judging by the way Clarke winked and headed out the library doors. He would be headed out to the car to make the call, and await a response.

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The woman who was Miss Everton today slid out of the black car and rejoined her partner, Mr Figgs, in the McKay kitchen. He cast a weary look at her.

Mr and Mrs McKay sat at the kitchen table with him, and between those two it seemed like it would be impossible for either agents to get a word in edgewise without shooting them first. Unfortunately, shooting them would defeat the purpose. On the bright side, their mission looked easier minute by ear-bleeding minute. The only thing the McKay's seemed to agree on was that their son was more trouble than he was worth.

The moment the door to the McKay residence had opened they were greeted with, "Oh what has he done now?" followed by the last three hours of listing everything their son had ever done to embarrass or inconvenience them. Of course, it didn't help that both agents already knew everything he'd ever done. From taking apart his Grandmothers piano when he was 4, which they claim gave her the heart attack that killed her two days later, to disassembling some expensive electronics in a store to see how they worked when he was 6, to building a nuclear bomb at 12, and everything in between. Figg's hand was twitching alarmingly on his lap. He wanted his gun.

Thankfully Mrs McKay chose that moment to pause the deluge to ask a question and, this time, wait for an answer. "Well… I suppose we'd better find out what he's done now. Another nuclear bomb is it?" Everton thought they seemed a little hung-up on the nuclear bomb. It was only a model, granted it was a working model...

Figgs just looked at them a moment, as though waiting to see if he truly had permission to speak before venturing, "Well, we at the Department of Education are concerned that his level of knowledge exceeds his capacity for responsibility, given his age. A boy with the ability to build bombs at a whim is naturally a concern to us. He may require more supervision than any two parents… however… dedicated," He forced that last word, "they may be…." He'd put a little too much emphasis on the word 'may' and he winced at himself.

How amateurish. Everton sighed inwardly and stepped in smoothly, "Given the circumstances you have done extremely well. However, as you have seen for a long time now, Rodney presents unique challenges."

Mr and Mrs. McKay nodded their agreement. Everton quickly carried on before they could interrupt, "As such we think it's time the country took a more direct hand in preparing him for the world, and keeping him under control until he is ready…"

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Agent Figgs was all too happy to be driving away from the McKay residence. He glanced at Everton as she picked up the car-phone, "That was a little too easy. I can't believe they offered to pay us to take him." He frowned at the briefcase between them, containing the newly signed custody papers which granted the organization full guardianship of the target. The boy was theirs now.

Everton spoke succinctly into the phone, "Fieldtrip is a go," before hanging up and turning to her partner, "Are you actually complaining? We got what we came for. You're lucky I didn't slap you when you suggested they read the contract first."

He rolled his eyes and curled his lips in distaste, "Well, they didn't. Besides, you don't want to have a kidnapping case opened up after all this effort just because they didn't understand what they were doing. The whole point of this charade is to keep them quiet, isn't it? I just think that convincing them to hand over their son should have been a lot harder. I mean, they didn't even ask for ID!" He spat out the words, "We spent time developing contingents. They didn't even call the school!"

"I never would have thought you an idealist," she smiled at him in amusement.

"I just don't like to see decent planning go to waste."

"You got the permission slip ready?"

"Right here," He patted his coat pocket.

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Clarke walked back into the library and nodded meaningfully. Mr Douglas nodded at Clarke as the other man re-entered the room and smiled at where the target was now grilling Bakers about the computer hardware they'd been using. The boy had noticed the speed of the computer he'd been tested on and already had some ideas about the design modifications in the unit. Agent B, their tech man, was now packing up the gear while answering question after question. The large librarian hovered protectively, as though Bakers was likely to pick the boy up and pack him in one of the boxes too. It was rather amusing to watch.

"Rodney," Douglas strolled over to the target with a smile for the librarian, "We were very impressed with your results. How would you like to come to our testing centre and take a few more tests? I'm sure we have a few spare computers too. You can take them apart; see what you can do with them."

The targets eyes widened, "Really! You'd let me do that?"

Douglas nodded, "Absolutely!"

The large librarian shot a look at the female teacher who'd been left to help guard. The teacher all but ran out of the room. Douglas smiled. He imagined he knew where she was headed.

Minutes later the elderly principal came storming in. "You can't take him anywhere! No student can be taken anywhere without parental permission no matter if you're from the Department of Education or the Vatican in Rome!"

Agent Douglas smiled calmly and led Rodney to the phone behind the library counter. "We have parental permission. You can call them yourself and see. Here Rodney, dial your home number for us, would you?"

Rodney dialled the phone, "Hey Dad…sorry… ya sorry about that too. I didn't mean to… mmmhmm. No I'm not disrespecting ok…ok…ok…ok…uh Dad? There are these guys here from the Department of Education that want to take me for some tests. Can I go with them? ... You already agreed? ... Sorry… I didn't know… No I don't want to waste your time… No! I didn't build another bomb… what do you mean I'm not your problem anymore? ... I didn't mean to sound lippy… I'm not arguing… I just wondered what… I didn't understand… sorry… ok…" The boys eyes alternated between rolling skyward and wincing. Then he held the phone back up to Douglas. "He hung up."

Douglas looked a bit aghast and sympathetically took the phone back, "He, ah, didn't ask to talk to a teacher?"

The boy shook his head.

"Riiiight then…" He drawled out before turning reluctantly back toward the Principal, "We have a signed permission slip too. It's on its way." Judging from the unrelenting look in the woman's eyes she could be a problem later. A nice natural looking death would have to be arranged. Agent Douglas almost regretted it, he might have if he hadn't already done and seen far worse in his career. He looked back at the target; soon to be a perfect example.

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	2. A Typical Day

Ch 1

Dr. Carson Beckett stood on the balcony overlooking the gate room, enjoying the relative calm that would last until the Daedalus arrived with the new shipment of supplies and personnel. It would get busy soon enough, so for now he relaxed against the railing and sipped his morning coffee.

A handful of science and technical staff were scattered around the gate room working on projects or testing systems. Carson really had no idea what they were doing. Gadgets and gizmo's were Rodney's area of expertise. It sometimes annoyed Carson that he couldn't say the same about Rodney's understanding of the Medical teams work. His friend feigned ignorance and bleated about soft sciences, voodoo, and shepherding of all things. But his obvious understanding of the medical field still peeked through a little too often. Carson recalled Rodney's swift directions and his input in diagnosing the unfortunate nano-virus outbreak. Then there was his easy understanding of how the Wraith technology worked, even though it was more biological than mechanical. Rodney had more than a passing understanding of medicine and biology, that much was certain, but thankfully not enough that he felt confident in flaunting it. Otherwise the daft bugger would almost certainly be flaunting it. As it was, Carson tried not to encourage him too much.

The speculating physician almost dropped his mug when Dr. Zelenka appeared and rested his arms on the railing beside him. A splosh of coffee plummeted down and landed on an unfamiliar tech. "Ah! Hey!"

The two men leaned over and winced out a united, "Sorry!"

At which the technician grinned and waved it off, "Just surprised me. No harm done." He wiped the splash off his head with his sleeve and continued on his merry way.

"Good morning Dr. Beckett," Zelenka lifted his own mug in greeting. Beckett returned the gesture but Zelenka's attention had already drifted elsewhere, "What is Kavanagh doing now?" He curled his lips as though the name left a bad taste in his mouth.

Carson followed Zelenka's line of sight down to a station where a quivering Dr. Miko Kusanagi was trying to talk to Kavanagh about something, and was succeeding only in being ignored while he disassembled the unit. She opened her laptop and turned it aqwardly towards him and meekly refused to back down from whatever she was trying to convince him of.

Carson and Zelenka strained to hear her, "Dr. McKay needs me to take these readings. Dr. McKay expects all these results no later than…" She flinched when Kavanagh stood and towered over her.

Zelenka muttered something angry sounding in Czech and turned to head down to her rescue, but Carson caught his arm, "Wait lad. I think it's under control."

Sure enough, Dr. McKay bounced into the room with his tablet PC. It was his, 'look what I discovered!' bounce. Not unlike a kid showing off a new toy. He undoubtedly was looking to show his favourite science play-mate whatever he'd found.

"He's looking for you," Carson teased Radek.

Radek nodded but continued to peer down, "He will need to deal with Kavanagh first. It is his turn anyway."

McKay paused where two of his team were working at the station nearest the door. He snapped his fingers impatiently and held out his free hand to inspect their work. It was briefly skimmed before he handed it back to them, "I see your line of thinking there. Creative. But wrong. On the bright side, you aren't working on anything that could explode and kill us all." His voice dripped with sarcasm and he made his, 'I know I'm smarter than you, but really I still expected better,' face. He reached down and began typing into their laptop. "There. That should get you at least somewhere in the vicinity of the right track."

The two exchanged a silent look then lifted their eyebrows when they re-examined their work with Rodney's changes. They seemed to struggle between being annoyed and being impressed that McKay had yet again accomplished in seconds what would have taken them hours. Carson suppressed a smile. The man was egotistical to be sure. And never shy to point out his brilliance. But half the time Carson thought McKay was genuinely surprised and annoyed that everyone else around him didn't immediately see what he saw and understand what was so easily plain to him. That could be construed as a sort of humility. His two scientists would probably spend more time now reading over and discussing the changes McKay had assumed they'd fully comprehend. The two scientists were definitely smart. They, like everyone else here in Atlantis, were among the best Earth had to offer. But there was smart, and then there was McKay. It was a fact that Rodney was never shy to point out.

Having passed his timeless wisdom on to his minions, McKay turned around to scan the room again for Radek but instead his eyes rested on Kavanagh. This should be interesting.

"Kavanagh!" McKay barked, "What do you think you're doing?"

Kavanagh folded his arms and turned to face Rodney with disinterested disdain.

In contrast, Dr. Kusanagi's eyes filled with respect and humility at the appearance of her leader, "Dr. McKay! I am sorry I have not started my assigned task yet. Please forgive me! I will serve you better."

Carson grinned broadly at the look on his friends face. McKay never quite knew how to react to Dr. Kusanagi at times like this. She was the only member of his team that didn't seem to get that she was supposed to react to his caustic personality with fear or disdain rather than fawning adoration.

Rodney floundered for a moment, but his attention was turned squarely back on Kavanagh when the pony-tailed irritant scoffed out an, "Oh please!"

McKay stiffened and glared at Kavanagh, "Dr. Kusanagi, I can see that Dr. Kavanagh here has been in your way. He will now collect his things and carry on with his scheduled projects."

Kavanagh leaned threateningly towards McKay and protested, "But my work here…"

"…Is not scheduled to take place for another two weeks, Kavanagh. This station is assigned to Dr. Kusanagi this morning and is being used by Dr. Hedgwigs archaeology team this afternoon." If Rodney was aware of Kavanagh's attempt at looming, he didn't show it.

Kavanagh ground his teeth, "The archaeology team can wait! You are purposely delaying my work!"

Rodney task switched the screen on his tablet pc to the science teams work schedule. "No, I'm sending you to it!" He enunciated as though he were speaking with a misbehaving preschool child and turned the screen to Kavanagh. "See this here! This is where I'm supposed to be. Which is right here. Oh look! Here's Dr. Kusanagi too! Right where she's supposed to be. And look all the way over here. That's where you're supposed to be working." Rodney turned the laptop back away and the patient teacher tone vanished, "Go there. Now."

Kavanagh looked like he was going to try and throttle McKay, but a couple of the marines on gate room duty looked pointedly at him from behind Rodney and shook their heads meaningfully. So he scowled silently and stalked out of the room, the tail of his white science coat flapping behind him villainously.

"Oh thank you most honourable Dr. McKay!" Dr. Kusanagi beamed at him in admiration. "I will fix the console and get to work immediately!"

McKay backed away uncomfortably, "Uh… no problem. Carry on then."

When he turned and saw all the other teams in the room watching him with badly disguised amusement he threw up his arms in disgust and said with emphasis, "ALL of you carry on." Instantly everyone returned to their work, with a curious look of respect exchanged between them.

Carson thought it was an interesting phenomenon, perhaps worth psychological study, the way the entire Atlantis expeditions dislike of Rodney's acid personality turned to appreciation when it was turned on Kavanagh.

The members of Atlantis willingly put up with Rodney's idiosyncratic personality because he had unintentionally shown them time and time again that it was all a lie. And the truth was that he thought they were brilliant, and in a crunch he would willingly give his life to save any one of them. So they rolled their eyes and shook their heads when he wasn't looking, and quietly took it when he was. Well, quietly if one didn't count the sound of teeth grinding.

"'Ave ye had any luck catching Rodney out, yet?" Carson asked Radek as he was turning to go to Rodney. The crafty man had revealed his plot to Carson one night when they'd shared too many drinks. Radek was convinced that Rodney could speak and understand Czech perfectly well but was hiding it. His argument had made sense at the time, though both men had been more than a little tipsy at the time. Rodney learned near-fluent Ancient in a month. He'd deciphered written Wraith within hours of first seeing it. So why wouldn't he be able to speak Czech?

"Not yet! But I will!" Zelenka stated with total confidence.

"Well", Carson straightened and gave Zelenka a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I'm off to the infirmary to help pack away the new supplies when they arrive."

"No new personnel?" Zelenka sounded surprised.

"Not for me this time. You?"

Zelenka pushed up his glasses and nodded, "Yes, I will stay here for initial introduction, try to keep Rodney from frightening them away. Perhaps stay for tour."

Carson grinned and chuckled at that, "Good luck lad."

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Dr. Elizabeth Weir paused inside the entrance to the gate room, with Teyla at her side, and scanned the area for Rodney. She had a feeling he was already here, "Rodney?" And sure enough, he was practically in the middle of the room.

"Ah, Elizabeth!" he answered brightly, "Have you seen Radek? I thought he'd be here."

She shook her head, "No. Is everything alright? I saw Dr. Kavanagh storming out."

"Oh," he waved a hand absently and sniffed the air curiously, "It's handled…" sniff sniff "What's that smell?"

"Athosian herbs," Elizabeth locked her hands behind her back and observed McKay.

"Huh..." He half grunted. "It's sort of like apple blossoms. It's nice."

"Why thank you Rodney." She smiled appreciatively with a hint of amusement.

McKay narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Teyla, "Hey, and your hair has a sexy twirly thing going on. Have you two had a girls night or something?"

Teyla gave him a pleased smile, "We have. Thank you for noticing."

A Czech accent interrupted their small-talk, "I hear you are looking for me?" Radek walked down the stairs from the upper level and towards Rodney, whose face lit up like a kid at Christmas. The 'discovery' bounce returned and he was eager to show his friend what he'd found.

"Where've you been?" he waved his hand dismissively at his own question, "It doesn't matter. Here. Just check out these energy readings. The behaviour of these waves is like nothing we've ever seen. I've made some calculations here and here, and I think…"

Radek was already looking at the results on Rodney's laptop, "I see. Yes, and then this..."

"Exactly."

"You believe this would then…"

"Yup."

"Is sound theory."

"Of course it is!" he snapped and shoved the laptop unceremoniously into Radek's hands. "I have to give a tour to the new guys when they get here. Can you…"

"You wish me to carry on with this for you?" Radek had to confirm this properly. It was too rare a circumstance for him to risk it on their unspoken way of communicating.

McKay rolled his eyes, "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't. I'll join you when I can."

Elizabeth silently wondered at what point Rodney had actually asked anything.

Radek grinned and looked at Rodney over his glasses, "Is not often you share your toys. I will be in your lab." And Radek scurried off before Rodney could change his mind.

Elizabeth could tell that although Radek would never admit it out-loud he was honoured to be one of the few people Rodney thought capable of working as an equal on his experiments and research, and share still-developing theories with. That trust and friendship was why she felt most comfortable leaving Radek in charge of the science teams whenever Rodney was away on missions.

With a few minutes to kill before the Daedalus arrived Rodney turned back to Elizabeth and Teyla…"So… Chick flicks?" He referred the conversation back to the girls night.

"Kate and Leopold." Teyla supplied, exchanging a look with Elizabeth and nodding quiet agreement. Unknown to Dr. McKay he had been a subject of conversation last night and had now been tested. They had been debating top 10 most charming men in Atlantis and Teyla had been surprised when Elizabeth suggested Rodney McKay as an addition to the list.

Elizabeth had argued that while he could be critical and thoughtless it also meant that when he did give a compliment it was genuine and effortless rather than manufactured and linked to expectations. He would say it as though he were simply observing an irrefutable fact of the universe. EMC squared, time is relative, and you are beautiful.

"What were you and Radek discussing?" Elizabeth asked, before Rodney could notice Teyla's appraising look.

His eyes lit up and he bounded into an explanation as though he had just been waiting for her to ask. Elizabeth smiled and listened attentively as he took the time to back up each explanation with simple analogies, gesturing expansively as he spoke. He never treated her like she couldn't understand. Rodney paused in his explanation and an annoyed expression flitted across his face. She realized her name was being called, "Yes?"

"Dr. Weir. The Daedalus is here and requesting permission to beam down the supplies and new personnel." She smiled apologetically at Rodney, a silent signal that they would continue over lunch if he was free. "Of course. Tell them to come on down."

Rodney sighed laboriously, "I wonder what they've sent me to work with this time."

Elizabeth and Teyla exchanged knowing smiles. "Be nice Rodney." Elizabeth admonished.

"We know now that you can do it." Teyla said in a conspiratorial tone.

He didn't get a chance to question the apparent conspiracy as a bright flash announced the arrival of the goods and men.

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	3. Close Call

Ch 2.

Dr. McKay held a pen over an old fashioned clip-board and stood in front of the line of 'newbie lab-rats'. Well… they were experienced experts in their field and among the best earth had to offer, but they were new to Atlantis. "Ok, boys and girls, welcome to camp Atlantis. Let's do role call!"

"Uh, Dr.McKay?" McKay dropped the pen to his side and turned to face the interruption. Interrupted already!

"What!" he sniped. "Can't I tuck the new guys into their shiny new labs without one of you children posing as scientists needing their hand held? This is role call time, and you had better be interrupting it for nothing less than averting a disaster of apocalyptic proportions." The line up of new scientists leaned slightly away from their Head of Department and glanced at one another in trepidation.

"Sorry Sir," The Canadian guy with the wild hair, who now manned what had been Peter Grodin's station apologized but seemed otherwise un-phased. This indicated to the observant new recruits that this was normal but harmless behaviour from their leader, "But there are some strange fluctuations coming from generator three."

McKay's scowl was replaced by mild concern, "Three?" He shoved the clipboard into the hands of one of the new guys and strolled over to Gro…dammit…Canadian guys control console. "Let me take a look at that." He took one look at the monitor and slapped his radio on, "Kavanagh, this is McKay. Tell me you didn't stop at Generator three on your way to where I told you you're supposed to be."

'It was on the way and it was clearly well overdue for recalibrating anyway.'

"It's not overdue, it's due to take place in three days. Get away from that generator."

'I'm already in the middle of recalibrating it.'

"Then stop! Kavanagh, there's a reason it's not scheduled for today. Jeffrey's team is working a level below you. They're interfacing some highly sensitive equipment. If you miscalculate..."

'I won't miscalculate', Kavanagh interrupted defiantly.

"Fluctuations increasing sir," the other Canadian advised, though McKay could see the readings perfectly well.

McKay glared at the other man for stating the obvious and flipped the channel on his radio, "Jeffrey's, this is McKay. We're getting some fluctuations on generator three. I want you to hold off on hooking up that equipment."

'We're already partially interfaced and are testing the power requirements for each unit. Do you want us to unhook it all?'

"That's a no. Just back up to a safe distance and wait." McKay switched the radio back to Kavanagh's channel. "Kavanagh. Get away from that generator now."

'I am perfectly capable of…'

"Get the hell away from that generator! I'm not going to ask again!" McKay's face reddened with anger then paled with alarm when the power levels spiked dramatically. "Jeffreys! Get your team out of there!" More than a hint of panic laced his voice.

'We're already out. But I think the equipments fried and my team is pretty shaken. It was like the whole room filled with lightning. It's a good thing we weren't in there.' The other mans voice was shaky.

McKay sighed with relief and leaned against the control panel before speaking again with a snarl, "Kavanagh."

'I wouldn't have miscalculated if you hadn't distracted me. This was your fault. Not mine! You could have caused a deadly accident.'

McKay's eyes turned steely with rage. The Canadian tech whose name McKay could never remember edged his chair silently away from the other man and watched as though waiting to see what would happen. The clusters of scientists and marines moving goods stopped what they were doing and watched with uncertainty. The line of newbie scientists got the message that this was an unprecedented situation and backed away a few extra steps.

McKay's voice was all too calm when he finally spoke into his ear-piece, "My office. Now."

'I have things to do!' Kavanagh blustered out of the speaker at McKay's hip. 'Work to complete. If you'd like to make an appointment to discuss your mistakes I might be able to work you in around…'

McKay's next words echoed sharply throughout the gate room, causing more than a few to jump, "So help me, if you don't shut up and get to my office of your own accord right now I will send a marine to shoot you and drag you there!"

'You don't have the authority…'

McKay clicked off his radio and snapped his fingers at a gawking marine, "You… go get him now." The tone was sharp but had returned to its normal volume. The marine actually saluted before turning to go. A new guy. Probably from last month. A meaningful look at a more familiar face sent a more experienced marine trailing behind the newbie. He would make certain Kavanagh wasn't actually shot.

"You with the hair." McKay addressed the other Canadian. He swore the man got some of his styling tips off Shepherd. "Take these." He pointed a thumb behind him to the gawking newbies. "I'll be in my office." And with that, he stormed purposefully towards the seldom used room.

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McKay slumped into the unfamiliar office chair and rested his head in his hands. He couldn't believe he'd almost lost more people to something so stupid. The weight of those lives, and his entire team, felt almost tangible on his shoulders at that moment. Minimizing the risks was his responsibility. Protecting them was his responsibility. Keeping them alive was his responsibility and he hated himself for every time he'd failed thus far.

He opened the bottom drawer of this desk and pulled out the thickening hard-copy of the safety procedures manual for the Atlantis Expedition. Every time an accident happened that killed a member of his team he wrote a lengthy paper detailing suggested additions for the manual and the reasoning supporting each. Elizabeth had added some of them. Most were rejected as impossible or impractical to maintain. Some risks were unavoidable. He opened the manual to the section that said all interfaced equipment was to be unhooked or shut down and other activities on the systems stopped while a scheduled generator recalibration was being carried out. That one had easily made the book.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how the coming meeting might go, what he wanted to gain from it.

What he wanted was to wring Kavanagh's neck. What he needed was to get the other man under control and following orders. But as long as Kavanagh only saw McKay as a rival, McKay could never accomplish that on his own. He'd been willing to let the obvious rivalry slide thus-far because it was a simple fact of any Science Community. But he drew the line when it risked lives. Kavanagh would completely ignore him if he tried to enforce this on his own. He reluctantly switched his radio back on.

"McKay to Sheppard."

'Sheppard here. You sound stressed. Is the new Science Squad misbehaving?'

"The Canadian guy with the hair is taking them around."

'Dr. McKay. This is Dr. Weir. Did I hear that right?' She must be helping with the Military tour. Probably to observe how Ronon reacted to the new recruits, and they to him.

"Dr. Weir, yes you did. Something has come up. Do you think Major Lorne could finish the military tour? I could use some back-up"

There was a short pause before Elizabeth answered, 'We'll be right there…where are you?'

"I'm in my office."

'You're office!' Sheppard really didn't need to sound so shocked.

"That's what I said. Isn't it?" McKay sniped then sighed tiredly, "It's a long story."

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Time seemed to drag while McKay waited. So he stood and paced. He hoped he'd have enough time to explain to Elizabeth before the two Marines arrived with Kavanagh. He wished he'd asked them to hold him outside his office until he was ready. He didn't even know their names. His pacing slowed when he noticed an odd inconsistency in the colouring and paper thickness in part of the open manual… was that another book in between the pages? He tilted his head and flipped through the manual to reveal a magazine that appeared to feature a very scantily clad woman leaning over a particle accelerator. The few articles in the magazine were written in Czech. Maybe his office wasn't that unused after-all, he mused. Hmm, that article on AI was actually pretty interesting. It served as a momentary distraction and he jumped when the door to his office slid open to admit one John Sheppard. McKay casually flipped back to the relevant section of the manual, hiding the incognito magazine.

"Sheppard, good, where's Elizabeth?"

Col. Sheppard closed the door behind him, "She had to make a quick stop. She'll be right along. So... this is your office?" He glanced around, and noted it was sparse.

"Yes!" McKay clipped. "This is my office."

"Have you ever actually been in it before?" Sheppard had his doubts.

"Yes! I've been in it before. And don't look so surprised. It was shown to me when it was first pointed out to me that I had one. So of course I saw it then."

Sheppard was curious about what had warranted this occasion but figured it would be better to wait for Elizabeth before asking, and this seemed like a good opportunity for a little McKay reconnaissance. It was one of his favourite Atlantis pass-times. McKay was like a challenging puzzle, and like most who had taken and passed a MENSA, challenging puzzles were tough to find. That, and he was genuinely curious. It was generally pretty hard to get McKay to really talk about anything other than work. Oh, every now and then he'd let something slip about the dog that ran away or his after-school job with the CIA (and John still wasn't sure if that was just a diversionary fib). Having secrets was one thing, everyone had those, but a guy had to share at least a little bit with his friends. And John considered himself Rodney's friend. He'd decided that a long time ago. Luckily it turned out that the verbal sparring involved in teasing McKay into opening up was, over-all, quite entertaining. Sure it was aggravating when he lost. But it wouldn't be any fun if he always won. Elizabeth often tried to get Rodney to open up too, but she was far too polite about it. So she would listen and encourage McKay to talk about things that she could see he enjoyed, usually science. But for anything more than that, Rodney had to be angered into spilling the beans.

"You're one tough guy to figure out." Sheppard baited.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, Elizabeth just told me that you're more charming than me because you noticed her herbs and Teyla's hair."

McKay wore a cocky grin at the news of his place on the charm charts, "What's so mysterious about that?"

"I've seen you with women."

Score one for Sheppard. McKay scowled, "What's that supposed to mean!"

Sheppard smiled in that 'no care in the world' way he knew irritated McKay, "It just means that as soon as you know they like you or you think you might like them it becomes painful to watch."

McKay's grin fell and he tried and failed to counter under Johns candid stare, "What? You're just jealous! I'm fine with women. Better than fine. Eloquent. Smooth. Charming… "

"Teyla thinks you need help to practice." John let that hang in the air.

McKay winced, "It's that bad?"

John gave him a straight look, "Do you even have to ask?"

Rodney folded his arms and glared, "Well we can't all be Captain Kirk!"

"Maybe, but Spock got his fair share too. You can at least be a Spock." John pointed out, conceding to McKay a small victory by revealing a little more of his own personal inner-geek.

"What did she mean by practice?" McKay narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"You know, to say the right things while trying to rather than ramming your own foot up your throat. I'll help show you a few lines and moves." John supplied.

"Thank-you Cyreno but don't you think that's a little Junior High?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious you skipped that whole cultural experience, so ya, what say we get you up to speed a little?"

McKay rolled his eyes and turned several colours before sniping defensively, "Well you try talking to girls that are twice your age and half as smart! Honestly. You are so immature. I refuse to believe Teyla put you up to this!"

Bingo, another part of the puzzle solved. McKay really hadn't spent much time with kids his own age. Sheppard smiled and filed that away in the section of his brain labelled, 'Rodney McKay intel'.

Elizabeth arrived just in time to get Sheppard out of admitting that Teyla hadn't 'exactly' suggested it, at least not directly. "Have I missed anything?"

John smiled all too sweetly, "Nothing at all. Rodney was just about to explain why we're gathered here."

But Rodney was looking out the clear door to his office and watching Kavanagh stalk ahead of the marines he'd sent to fetch him. "It's too late to explain."

McKay quickly positioned a chair in front of his desk, and then dragged his two confused friends behind the desk to either side of his own chair, while rambling out quick instructions. "Elizabeth, stand here on my right. John, over here on my left. Don't look confused! Look stern and intimidating. Sheppard, feel free to fondle your gun. And whatever you do, look like you agree with everything I say."

Elizabeth and Sheppard both looked like they were about to question him but caught the begging look in his eyes right before he sent a stern look towards the door.

It was just in time for Kavanagh to charge into the office without knocking, and looking like he was about to verbally launch into McKay. It was a look that was quickly tempered when he saw who was standing on either side of the Science team leader.

All need for pretending flew out the now closing door. Elizabeth looked stern, and Sheppard 'fondled' his gun.

"Dr. Kavanagh, please sit down," McKay began, his voice stern and clipped. When the glowering man was seated he continued, "We have a serious problem. Your actions today have breached safety protocols which have been put in place to protect the lives of all the members of this expedition." He tapped pointedly on the thick hard-copy of the mission safety protocols.

Kavanagh answered with a forced calm, "I never would have miscalculated if you hadn't distracted me."

McKay narrowed his eyes, "You shouldn't have been working on that generator in the first place. You knew that Jeffrey's team was working on interfacing equipment in an area run primarily by that power source. You don't risk lives on the chance that you might not get distracted. You broke protocol that was put in place with good reason. You ignored my orders to stop what you were doing when a clear danger had been identified and communicated to you."

Kavanagh narrowed his eyes and folded his arms arrogantly, "Like you don't break protocol on a regular basis."

McKay clenched his fists, and a little of his emotion leaked into his voice. "Yes, when I feel it's necessary and not when it risks the lives of my team." He forced his fists to unclench and forced the calm he didn't feel back into his voice, "You don't make the call for whether it's necessary Kavanagh. I do. You are on probation until further notice. All your present work-load will be reassigned. You are banned from your lab for the next two days. You are not to attempt any repairs, tinker with any equipment, or work on any research without my personal permission."

"You can't do that!" Kavanagh snarled out, defiantly.

Elizabeth folded her arms and interjected calmly, "Actually, yes he can."

John took her lead, "And I'll be assigning a guard to your lab."

Kavanagh turned from red, to white to red, to a sort of almost purple, while his mouth worked wordlessly.

Rodney just put the thick manual back into the lower desk drawer before sitting up straight and looking emotionlessly back at Kavanagh, "You're dismissed."

Kavanagh clenched and unclenched his fists a few times before standing and walking out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

As soon as Kavanagh was out of sight, Rodney slumped exhaustedly in his chair.

A supportive hand appeared on his shoulder and he looked up to find Elizabeth wearing a smile of reassurance and pride, "You handled that very well. You were completely right to call us both to back you up. Let us know if he makes any more trouble. We're here to help." She frowned at the office door.

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'_We're here to help.'_ Elizabeth's voice echoed those of his long-forgotten High-School Principal. A note with her phone number scrawled onto it was slipped into his hand. _'You could have caused a deadly accident!'_ Kavanagh's words snipped at the heels of the unbidden memory and the knowledge of her 'accident' came to the fore of his sleeping mind.

Rodney tossed in his bed and clutched the pillow that should have been under his head while his sleeping mind picked out words spoken in the day and illogically linked them to unrelated events long past. Images he'd refused to think about for years flickered in Rodney's dreams; Images of white lab coats, needles, darkness and the sounds of hissing gas followed by total silence.

A boys voice echoed distantly, _"I want to go home. I want to see Jeannie."_

"_If you answer our questions honestly we'll try to arrange it." The other man lied. Rodney could see it in his head._

"_Now", the man who had never told him his name held up a card with the picture facing away from Rodney. "What do you see?"_

_Rodney looked at the duck, "It's a cow."_

"_Are you sure?" The man who Rodney knew was named Ian Greggs and whose aged mother lived with him at his home and thought he was a pharmacist shuffled the cards and pulled out the one that actually was a cow._

"_Duck."_

"_You aren't even trying! We know it's too soon after the last treatment for your abilities to have faded this quickly."_

"_I want to go home!" The stack of cards flew out of the man's hands and shrivelled as though burning._

"_Rodney. Right now I'm thinking about what will happen to you if you don't cooperate. What do you see?" The man spoke with real concern._

_The boy flinched and looked away, "I know the others died anyway, everyone here thinks about them."_

_The man smiled and looked unsurprised, "Yes. But then you also know you're different."_

"_Because they volunteered or because they were stupid?" The boy glared defiantly._

_The man sighed and picked up the papers he'd been using to record results, "Because you're special. The others were overwhelmed by what they saw. They couldn't understand it and so they couldn't control it." _

The sleeping Rodney understood that telekinesis wasn't as simple as willing something to move. You had to be able to look at what the thing was made of, and understand what energy was and how it behaved. The stronger it became, the more you needed to know or…

"_The autistic people were 'special' too." The dream Rodney quipped. He already knew that a good portion of them had proved passable at the telekinesis at first, but the ESP had overwhelmed them. Having been locked in their own minds for their whole lives, they had no way to cope with seeing another persons mind and experiencing the stimuli another person felt. They lacked frame of reference._

_The man slipped the papers into his briefcase and stood, "We'll talk again tomorrow. In the mean time I suggest you be more cooperative this afternoon."_

_They were going to lock him in that thing again. Make him look into the minds of people they wanted to know things from. Rodney hated himself for being so eager to take the language tests when he'd first arrived, and proving that he could quickly grasp any language they gave him to learn. He wished he'd never shown them most of the things he could understand. He wished he could go home… but he knew that home was here now. His parents had given him away. He had seen the papers in someone else's mind. Flicker – the dream leapt forward and he was being injected with a needle and shoved into that thing again. There was a hissing of gas… He felt like he couldn't breathe._

Dr. Rodney McKay shot out of bed, his arms flailing as his still sleeping legs gave out under him and he fell backward on the floor. lights! He thought forcefully at the city and instantly the room was no longer dark. He leaned back against the floor, panting, and ran his hands over his sweat-drenched face, "Dream…just a dream…."

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	4. Phobia

Ch 3

Four men remained in the sparring room of Atlantis. The other twenty or so men who had chosen to take up the challenge of sparring with Specialist Ronon Dex had been glad to take their aches and pains to the showers. They'd laughed when they'd learned that Ronon had taken on and beaten all of Sheppard's best men, at the same time, thinking it was an exaggeration. Now they knew better. But one didn't seem to know when his ass was kicked.

A loud thump followed by a quiet moan inspired a wince of pity from Colonel Sheppard, "Alright, Ronon. I think that's enough. Lorne, you can uncover your eyes now."

One of the new Marines, a formidable looking Sergeant Freeman, picked himself up off the floor, "But we just started sir…"

"And Dr Beckett will kill all four of us if you break your neck your first week here. Now I think it's admirable that you like to step up to a challenge and don't easily admit defeat. In fact, I kinda like that quality in my men. But no-one here has beat Ronon one on one, including me." Sheppard took a fresh water-bottle from his back-pack. "So have a drink, relax."

Ronon clapped the hulking Sergeant on the shoulder, "If you like, I'll show you some moves. You can try again in a few months when you've trained some more." Hard-headedness must have been a trait the Satedan respected.

The other man nodded appreciatively, and took a swig from the water-bottle. "Gah!" He grimaced and spat it out. "Very funny sir…"

Sheppard took the water bottle and unscrewed the cap. "What? Did I grab a stale one? I thought I filled this one right before coming." He took a sip and spat it out.

Lorne grimaced apologetically, "Sorry I didn't warn you sir. Dr. McKay said he'd have someone fix it this morning and that it wouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Fix what?" Sheppard hated being left out of the loop.

"The water's been salty throughout this section of the city since early this morning. I told him this is where we do all our training so we need good water, and he said he'd get someone right on it." Lorne looked pretty annoyed. "He sounded pretty focussed on something though. He was working on something in his lab. I'll go ask him in person this time."

Sergeant Freeman grabbed his own bag and slung it over his shoulder, "Mind if I tag along sir? I've been looking for a chance to talk to Rod... Dr. McKay, but I don't really know my way around that well yet, and what with all the training and orientation…"

"You know McKay?" Sheppard was intrigued by this.

"Yes sir… well I used to sir. He used to come around our apartment, fix stuff for my Ma and all the folks there. Mostly on the weekends though. He even had a cot set up in our place. Then he up and disappeared. Worried us sick! I'd like to ask him what happened to him." The bulky man looked annoyed.

Sheppard and Lorne exchanged a look. They seemed to be wondering if this guy was slow. "Uh… sergeant… you know the Atlantis program is top secret. A lot of people here had to leave their friends and family without really explaining where they were going. By the way, you didn't explain where you were going to anyone, like your Mom, did you?"

Freeman huffed, "What are you talkin' 'bout man? This was way before there was even a Stargate program. We were just kids."

"Oh," Sheppard felt a bit silly now, "In that case, Sergeant, Lorne and I will show you around the labs."

Ronon tossed a towel over his shoulder and backed out the door, "See you at lunch."

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The walk to the science section was short, what with the transporters, but Sheppard was bored easily, so he made small talk. Besides, this could be the perfect opportunity to learn some more about a member of his team. "So, what sort of stuff did he used to fix?"

Sergeant Freemans eyes lit up reminiscently and he grinned, "Oh man! He was amazing! We weren't exactly rich. The whole apartment building was in a poor part of town. He made the whole electric system safe, and reworked the plumbing. He fixed appliances too, like old Mr Wilson's freezer. Heck, he even turned our old black and white T.V into a colour T.V. He said it was kids play."

Sheppard frowned speculatively. That didn't sound right.

Lorne seemed to agree because he asked what Sheppard was thinking, "How old did you say you guys were?"

"When he fixed up the T.V? He was ten then. I told you he was amazing. I wonder if he'll even recognize me." The large military trained man looked a bit nervous.

"Relax, Sergeant." Sheppard clapped him on the back. He poked his head through the door of McKay's main lab to find his team hard at work. Zelenka appeared to be in charge. "Hey, Dr.Zelenka, have you seen McKay?"

Zelenka rolled his eyes and muttered something in Czech, "Why does everyone assume I know where he is all the time."

"Because you usually do?" Sheppard smiled in that way that usually got him his way.

"Right, he went to his private lab. He say he need space away from us idiots so he can think. Truth is he has been in an impossible mood! So he leave me in charge!" Zelenka ranted.

All was not well in science land today, it seemed. Sheppard wondered if maybe Freeman was prepared for the horrors of an adult McKay in a bad mood.

A short laugh came from outside the door and Freeman lay that concern to rest, "Sounds like Rodney alright. Let's go find him."

The expression of ire on Zelenka's face was replaced with curiosity at the sound of a stranger referring to McKay that way. Sheppard said a quick thanks and left before they could be delayed. Zelenka would just have to wait his turn.

They found McKay standing over his laptop with a look of deep concentration. Come to think of it, he looked pretty tired too.

Sheppard lent against the door frame and motioned for Lorne to go ahead. Lorne mouthed, 'What! Me?' Sheppard just smiled and leaned against the door frame.

Lorne cleared his throat. "Dr. McKay?" When he didn't get a response Lorne turned to Sheppard and gave him pleading look.

"McKay!" Sheppard used the tone that always worked in the field when McKay was lost in thought. And it worked.

McKay jumped about a mile off his stool and turned a glare on Sheppard. "What? Can't you see I'm busy here?"

The lop-sided grin of amusement crossed Sheppard's face and he replied with an overly patient tone, "Major Lorne has something he'd like to ask you."

The scientists mouth twisted as though he were about to say something acerbic but instead, he narrowed his eyes on the tall, broad-shouldered marine that had now invited himself into the lab and was grinning widely at McKay. "Who are you? And what are you doing here? ... And why are you looking at me like that?"

This only served to broaden the taller mans grin, "You don't recognize me? Do you? C'mon Handy-man. You're the genius."

The grouchy look was replaced with one of slack-jawed recognition, "Bobby Freeman!"

In an instant the scientist was lifted off his stool in a bear hug, shaken, and dropped unceremoniously onto his now unsteady feet. "W-What…a-a-a-a-a-a-a… Put me down! What are you doing here? You're in the military? When did that happen? I can't believe your mother let you join the military."

Freeman laughed, "Why are you surprised? You always said it was all I was good for."

"Well yes, I can believe you would join. I just can't believe your mother would let you." Then he actually looked concerned, "She's ok, right?"

The hulking marine fell serious, "Ya man. She's good. She was worried about you though. She ain't never stopped wonderin' 'bout you."

McKay looked genuinely surprised, "Really!"

"Ya, really. She even sent Mr. Grayson over to your place to ask about you. They threatened to have him arrested if he didn't get off their property and wouldn't tell him a thing. What the heck happened to you?"

McKay actually had the where-with-all to look guilty, "Uh, I was sent to a new school. It was sudden so I didn't get a chance to, uh, you know."

Freeman looked suspicious, "A place for smart kids, huh?"

"Something like that," McKay answered cryptically.

"And you couldn't write to us?" Freeman challenged.

Instantly, the old McKay walls were back up and his shoulders squared against the larger man, "Oh YES! I wrote every day to all the guys that used to shove me into lockers. Oh wait. I didn't. Because I was BUSY!"

"Hey! I stopped doing that once I got to know you and," the Marine's mouth worked for a moment, then the defensiveness McKay had inspired disappeared, "Look, I didn't come here to pick a fight with you. What's done is done. Looks like you did pretty good for yourself. What say I catch you in a better mood over dinner or something. You always loved to eat."

Before McKay could answer, Freeman had saluted his two commanding officers and left. So he turned his glare instead on Sheppard and Lorne, "Why are you still here?"

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'McKay to Kavanagh,' the grating voice of the science team leader sounded out of Kavanagh's radio. The pale, pony-tailed scientist rolled his eyes in irritation even as he pressed the answer button and spoke into his ear piece.

"What?" he spat out.

'I've just spoken to Major Lorne. He tells me the water in the military section is still salty. Do you mind sharing why?'

Kavanagh dripped out the obvious answer with a healthy coating of sarcasm, "Because I haven't fixed it yet." This was just the sort of micro-management he'd left military science and turned to a civilian project to avoid. It had been almost a week since his meeting in McKay's office and the subsequent stifling supervision and still, he was only back on partial duty and at McKay's beck and call for whatever petty repairs or gopher tasks popped up.

McKay stormed into the lower level room that housed the Atlantean version of desalination tanks. Apparently he had already been on his way down when he called. "You've been down here for hours! I sent you down here to fix it. Not take a vacation in it. Are you taking the opportunity to have a salt bath and facial!"

Kavanagh swallowed his rage at having to answer to such a clearly inferior mind with clearly inferior management skills, "I thought that rather than doing a half-assed job I'd re-vamp the systems and increase over-all efficiency."

He attempted to turn back to his work as though McKay weren't there. But McKay wasn't taking the hint, 'unsurprisingly', Kavanagh mused. 'And the Canadian had the audacity to call himself a genius.'

"Oh really," McKay snapped his fingers and held out his hand expectantly. Kavanagh sighed with exaggerated patience and held up his lap-top for McKay to view.

McKay took it and glanced at it for all of two seconds before rolling his eyes skyward, "Kavanagh! Your calculations are wrong here and here, which makes them ALL wrong from this point forward. I mean! This is a mess!" He turned the lap top screen around and pointed at it, "And THIS is going to fry the circuitry and overload the entire desalination and purification system for that section."

Kavanagh felt the heat rushing to his face as McKay spoke. Of course, Kavanagh would have caught those…those…MINUTE miscalculations by himself had McKay not come storming in.

McKay poked his head into the desalination tank before hesitantly stepping inside, "Kavanagh! This is a mess! These panels are loose! Waterproofing is kinda necessary in a WATER tank!" There was a scuffing sound as a panel was opened. "Augh! And these wires are loose… and while the crystal arrangement is creative and aesthetically pleasing, it's also completely wrong. Oh wait… this is a result of those miscalculations…right?"

Kavanagh clenched his teeth as the man he hated most in all Atlantis berated his work. Who was McKay to criticise? He was a whiney, paranoid, cowardly little man with more bluster than brains who had had more than his fair share of lucky breaks. The idiot even looked nervous before entering a harmless desalination tank right here in the city. How had he ever been selected for an off-world team? Let alone the top team.

"Well, Kavanagh?"

Fine then, if that's how it was! Kavanagh smiled sarcastically and pulled out a carbon copy of what he considered a classic McKay excuse for inferiority, "Well, it's almost lunch time. I must be getting a little hypoglycemic."

McKay poked his head out of the tank and looked at Kavanagh appraisingly, the maliciousness intended behind the other scientists words apparently lost on him, "Really? ... hm. You do look a bit pale… and flushed too." He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a power bar. "Eat this and then go take lunch. I'll fix this mess." McKay's head disappeared back into the tank without waiting for an answer.

Kavanagh gaped like a fish, unsure of whether he'd just been thoroughly blown off or if the leader of the expedition's science team really was that clueless. Either way, he was mad. He turned to leave and paused in front of the control panel, the wheels in his head turning. A better opportunity for a little revenge and to put his undeserving supervisor in his place would likely never come again. There was no way he could get blamed for leaving McKay to work alone. And, thanks to those damn miscalculations McKay had pointed out, triggering an untraceable overload would be easy and impossible to pin on him or prove was anything other than a random accident. His decision made he casually tripped a circuit in the still open panel and smiled as the tank door slid shut on McKay, sealing him in. The so-called genius could fix it in time…once he stopped panicking, or else embarrass himself by calling for help on the radio.

Kavanagh strolled down the corridor to the transporter with a bounce in his step and a whistle on his lips. This might be a good day after-all, and it was only quarter to noon.

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Dr. Weir sighed and looked over her command team, minus one Rodney McKay, gathered in the meeting room. They had been waiting ten minutes. It wasn't unheard of for Rodney to loose track of time if he got caught up in some research, or even to leave his radio laying around while he bounced from lab to lab or was suddenly pulled away from whatever he had been focussing on. She had learned to accept that it was simply an unfortunate side-effect of spinning advanced astrophysics theories in ones head every waking moment. Scientists were absent minded at times. It was a fact of life. But that didn't make it any less irritating, and this was the latest Rodney had been in a while. Whatever had his attention had better be good. Zelenka was on the case, at any rate. She had an idea that he would have the best idea of where Rodney could be. It wouldn't matter so much if it weren't for the fact that this was to be a short pre-supper meeting. Then again, maybe it didn't matter that much, as they would only be discussing Dr. Heightmeyer's suggestion to mark Mothers day this month. She thought that doing this, and marking other earth holidays in small ways, would be a good outlet to prevent home-sickness from building up the way it had in some over the first year. Even though they now had regular news on the Daedalus and were not nearly so cut off as they had been the first year. Elizabeth was inclined to agree. So, Elizabeth resigned herself to starting the meeting one science advisor short. "Ok, we better get started…"

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Radek muttered unseemly expletives in his native tongue as he strode down the corridors, "As if I have nothing better to do than search the whole city for Dr. Rodney McKay. Why can he not take his own advice and be where he is supposed to be! But no! That would be too simple. And he must be as difficult as he can be." Radek had already been searching for a little over an hour when Rodney had failed to meet him in his lab to experiment on a device of particular interest. He'd been about to give up when Dr. Weir called him and asked that he locate Dr. McKay. Not wanting to disappoint her he had readily agreed. That was another 30 minutes ago, and Radek found his mind wandering to everything else he should be doing. Not the least of which was figuring out what Kavanagh was up to, for he was certain the foul man was up to something. He had looked far too pleased with himself all afternoon. And it unsettled him when they had crossed paths in the main lab and Kavanagh had greeted him with a cheery, 'Good afternoon, Dr. Zelenka!'

"Dr. Zelenka?" Major Lorne strode purposefully towards Radek. He managed to scowl darkly and look pleading at the same time when he stopped in front of Zelenka. He took a deep breath, "I would say this to Dr. McKay myself if I could find him, but I think he's avoiding me." He folded his arms, and unfolded them awkwardly, "If I or any member of the military personnel have offended the science team in any way, we ALL apologize."

Radek tilted his head, "What are you talking about?"

The other mans shoulders slumped dejectedly, "Oh for crying out loud. Major Sheppard said this would work. Look, we know we must have done something. I swear to you we don't know what! I mean first that salty water was just foul; But not so bad really because we could go to the other sections to get bottled water. In hind-sight maybe I shouldn't have complained. But minutes after I contact Dr. McKay to tell him it's still not working the whole system starts spewing some sort of green slime! Some of the men were showering after work-outs and are in the infirmary now with a really, really, unpleasant rash. Look… whatever we did, we're sorry! Ok? Just...fix it. Please?"

The way Major Lorne shifted made Radek wonder if maybe Lorne had that unpleasant rash as well. He patted Lorne sympathetically on the shoulder, "I will see to it personally."

"Is that, 'you'll fix it' see to it personally, or 'the toilets will explode next' see to it personally?" Lorne called after him. But Radek was already in the nearest transporter, having finally the missing clue to Rodney's location.

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Radek pulled out the life signs detector he'd brought with him and was gratified to see a solitary blip in the room housing the desalination tanks. "Finally!" He tucked away the detector and strode into the room, ready to unleash his irritation at having spent such a large portion of the afternoon searching for his wayward friend. Not to mention chastise him for either not carrying his radio or having it switched off. He stopped in his tracks when he entered the room and saw no-one there. "Rodney?"… There was no answer.

Radek took the life signs detector back out and followed it to a tank with an open panel beside it. The unit was smoking and sparking, and the little blip was clearly inside the tank. All at once, Kavanagh's smug look came back to him and he let loose a string of choice words as he ran the rest of the way to the tank. "Rodney!" He yelled at the tank and waited to hear an answer, there was none. The panel that controlled the tank from the outside was badly short-circuiting but Radek was able to by-pass it in seconds. Though, those seconds were made long by the silence from within the tank. The moment the door seals cracked, a hoarse voice could be heard coming from within. 'The tanks sealant must make it sound-proof,' Zelenka thought to himself.

As the door slid open fully a steady stream of words spilled out and ran senselessly together, "wide open spaces wide open spaces wide open spaces wide open spaces wide open spaces." In the middle of the small cylindrical tank Rodney sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, rocking back and forth, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. A quick glance around the inside showed Radek that the circuitry inside the unit was completely fused, unworkable. His heart also fell to his stomach as he reasoned that Lorne had sent McKay here before lunch, and he had seen Kavanagh at lunch. So best case scenario, it now being near quarter to six, Rodney had now been sealed in here at least five hours, perhaps even six. And his friend had said many times before that he was claustrophobic. Radek realized all this in the second it took him to reach Rodney's side. He knelt down and lay his hands on Rodney's shoulders. A shudder shot through the mans body and suddenly he was still and silent. "Rodney?" Zelenka spoke quietly. Slowly, the other mans eyes opened to reveal first relief and then shame.

"Radek," it was a statement rather than a question. His voice sounded spent. Radek reached for his radio, intending to call Dr. Beckett, but Rodney caught his arm with a shaking hand. "It won't work in the tank. Something in the walls I think."

That explained why he couldn't be reached all day. "Then I will step outside and call Dr. Beckett."

"No!" Rodney shook his head, his voice cracking from over-use and probably lack of water, "I'm fine." His eyes pleaded.

"You are not fine! Though you pick fine time to stop being hypochondriac!"

Rodney smirked half-heartedly, "Shut up and help me up." Some of his normal bluster was returning.

Radek half carried a stiff and limping Rodney out of the tank and leaned him against the outer wall.

"I'm fine Radek. All I need is a good stretch and a glass of water."

"No! Your pride is making you stupid. Dr. Beckett would cause us both great misery if he knew we were even considering not calling him. First we will call Dr Beckett, then I will go and give Kavanagh slow painful death!" Radek reached for his radio and his eyes widened to find it not there.

Rodney waggled Zelenka's radio in front of him. "For what?"

Radek huffed and felt his anger building, "For what? For locking you in here! Do you deny that it was him you sent down here to fix the tanks and him that left you here?"

Rodney shook his head, "You don't know that."

This incensed Radek even further, "I do know that! And you know it too! Do you deny it?"

Rodney shook his head, "I don't deny it. But you can't prove that he intentionally, or even accidentally, locked me... trapped… did this." He floundered over any words that implied where he had been or the condition he had been in. He smirked half heartedly, "And I'm pretty sure we're not actually allowed to kill him, however much of a service to humanity it would be."

Radek folded his arms and regarded the still shaky McKay. He could easily over-power the other man in this state and take back the radio. But brute force was not his way. He would win with reason or not at all. "He must be dealt with. He cannot get away with treating you this way. He is.. he is…" Radek searched for words in this growing frustration, "Big jealous bully!"

"Radek, stop! There is no proof and we both know he's smart enough to have covered his tracks. Hell, he can always say I told him to go and he'd be telling the truth. Just let it go."

Suddenly, Dr Weir's voice sounded over Radek's radio, 'Dr. Zelenka? Have you had any luck locating Rodney yet? We haven't seen him at supper and we're becoming concerned.'

Rodney slapped on his own radio, "Elizabeth? This is Dr. McKay. I'm with Dr. Zelenka."

'Where have you been all day?'

"Fixing the desalination system for the marines. I'm afraid I lost track of time."

'And why haven't you answered your radio all day?'

"It appears the substance which the tanks are built with have some unexpected properties. Specifically, they block radio signals. I'll have a new health and safety protocol written up for you by the morning."

'Col. Shepard wants me to ask if the system is fixed.'

"Yes! Just finished!" He answered as he hobbled unsteadily over to another tank and keyed in the commands to reroute the spare desalination systems to the marines section. Something Kavanagh should have thought to do from the beginning.

'I see….' Dr. Weir sounded suspicious. 'What's wrong with your voice?'

Rodney hesitated a moment, then figured what the hell, the truth has worked so far, "I'm uh, a little dehydrated," it came out lamely.

'You should take better care of yourself." Dr. Weir matronly admonished, "And in case you still haven't noticed the time, its dinner. Come get something to eat.'

"We'll be right there." Rodney winced at Radek's scathing look as he switched off his radio. "What! Everything I said was completely true!"

"And yet it was not the complete truth! There is a difference!" Radek refused to back-down. "You are a fool if you think you have anything to be ashamed of!"

Rodney looked away, and covered the obvious flinch by rubbing the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache. Perhaps he even did. "Look, Radek. I'll handle Kavanagh the old fashioned way. Assign him to some menial and disgusting labour for a good long while and booby trap his bedroom… regularly."

Radek hesitantly slid his radio into its holder when Rodney handed it back to him, "We try it your way for now. But if I see it not working we go tell Dr. Weir the whole truth."

The short trip back to the transporter was silent. Radek used the time to plot many ways in which he could make Kavanagh's life miserable.

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	5. Super Radek!

Ch 4.

Radek waited outside the cafeteria despite McKay's insistence that he should eat and get back to his lab without him, having wasted enough time. But Radek couldn't shake the image of Rodney looking so vulnerable and terrified. He could not eat until he saw that his friend was well and also eating.

The obviously strong reaction had reminded Radek that there had been darker days in his homeland. As a boy he'd seen grown men break down when something triggered some unspeakable memory. Strong men. Whatever lay in McKay's past to frighten him so, what Kavanagh had done to remind him was inexcusable. There was no doubt in his mind now that this claustrophobia had a source. It should not matter that they had no proof. They knew. Others would believe them. Rodney was hiding it because he was ashamed and did not wish to be reminded of whatever had happened to him. Radek had seen that before, also. In fact, he had often watched the way Rodney kept all people at arms length, and wondered…

A tightening knot growing between Radek's shoulders eased when Rodney finally arrived, showered and acting as though nothing had happened. But the confident stride faltered when they entered the cafeteria to see Kavanagh speaking with Lorne, not far from the entrance.

Kavanagh wore a smug grin, "Why no, Major Lorne. I haven't seen Dr. McKay since before lunch. He was fixing a desalination tank." When he spotted McKay his grin broadened, "Oh look! There he is now."

Lorne looked to the entrance and made a straight line for McKay, while Kavanagh sauntered behind him. Zelenka scowled at the smugness that dripped off of the American.

McKay regathered his arrogance and smoothly beat Lorne to his obvious question with a tone of annoyed impatience, "Relax Major. It's fixed."

Lorne paused, frowning suspiciously, "All fixed?"

"All fixed." McKay assured.

"Oh…" Lorne seemed to let this sink in as though he'd been expecting to have to argue, or grovel. "Thank you". He eventually said with as much genuineness as he could muster given that he thought he'd been arm-twisted into submission by a conspiring science team for some unknown wrong.

"Oh you SHOULD thank him!" Kavanagh chimed in. "It's not really a task worthy of a Head of Department," His voice was sugary sweet as he stood taller, the way he did when trying to intimidate other members of the science team. He smiled directly at McKay, "We're just lucky to have a leader who doesn't 'confine' himself to his position."

Normally McKay would have easily defended himself with a smart-ass quip and arrogantly upraised chin. But when Kavanagh had put the additional emphasis on the word 'confine' Radek's friend had actually flinched. And this was too much for Radek. With only a dim awareness of his actions Radek lunged at Kavanagh and threw the much larger man against the nearest wall, pinning him with his forearm.

Kavanagh gaped in speechless, wide-eyed shock while Radek ground out his words, not caring how loud they might be in the now completely silent mess hall, "I do not have proof. But I know what you did to McKay. You are a weak-minded bully who thinks he can make people listen to him by frightening or hurting them. If I hear of you hurting anyone else here I will teach you real fear, proof or no proof." Kavanagh grew steadily paler and Radek was satisfied that his point had been made. Then, just as suddenly as he'd exploded, he calmed and became aware of hands pulling him back.

"Radek! Get a-hold of yourself!" it was Rodney. His sudden strength draining he allowed himself to be pulled away from Kavanagh.

Lorne looked stunned. Behind him, Dr Weir and Col. Sheppard stood, looking extremely displeased. Actually, Sheppard looked like he might be the next person to turn violent. And Teyla and Ronon looked ready to back him up. It was Dr. Weir who spoke, addressing Kavanagh, "What is this all about?"

Kavanagh gathered himself quickly and glowered defensively, "He just attacked me! I'm the victim here! He even said himself he has no proof!"

Weir turned to Major Lorne, who finally seemed to have recovered from his surprise, "Take him to my office for questioning. Keep him there." There was no question she meant Kavanagh. For once Kavanagh had the wisdom not to argue and left silently.

Carson appeared seemingly out of nowhere and took a firm hold of Rodney's arm, "And ye are comin' to the infirmary where we'll discuss where ye've really bin all bleedin' afternoon." He looked sternly at Radek, "And you're comin' too."

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Carson steered Rodney over to one of the infirmary beds and firmly commanded, "Sit".

"Oh, very nice bed-side manner Carson! Did you learn that command while tending the sheep-dog during your internship on the FARM!" Rodney's diversionary tactics had been coming out in full force all the way to infirmary.

Carson made a show of his patience wearing thin, "Aye, ye cheeky bugger. Now sit down before I find ye a leash and muzzle!"

"Ha!" McKay cried in triumph, "I knew it! You heard him Radek! I have witnesses!"

He pointed over to Radek who was already sitting on the neighbouring bed. Radek waved McKay away in a futile, 'Keep me out of this' gesture.

"Rodney. Behave." Sheppard stood at the foot of the bed and folded his arms.

"Pfttt! What is this? Obedience training?" Rodney folded his arms huffily.

Sheppard just smiled casually with a twinkle in his eye. The look he used to tell Rodney that John didn't even need to say anything more because Rodney had just said it all.

"I hate you." Rodney narrowed his eyes and spat the words.

Carson just shook his head at the sibling-like banter and turned to Radek, "Right then, let's have a look at that hand."

"Hand?" Radek looked confused as Carson lifted up his left hand by the wrist. A wince immediately followed, "That hurts!"

"Aye lad, that's to be expected. Surprisingly, I don't think anything is broken. Let's get that on some ice, though it may take a few minutes to get it." Carson looked over to the only nurse in the room who immediately left to get the ice, and probably take a little extra time getting it.

When Radek continued to look confused, Sheppard filled in the apparent blank, "I thought for sure Kavanagh was going to pass out when you punched the wall right by his head."

Radek blinked. He did not remember punching the wall. But then neither did he remember ever being so angry before.

Carson's brows furrowed in concern, "Right, we'll be taking your blood pressure and cholesterol levels then too. Won't we? But first why don't ye tell us what this was all about."

"Carson! Priorities!" Rodney chided. This time Carson didn't have to feign holding his patience. "It doesn't MATTER what caused it. What matters is it happened and now we have to figure out how to run interference for Radek. You just know Kavanagh's going to make trouble about this."

John wasn't going to let it slide that easily, "What did he do?"

"It doesn't matter! Maybe NOTHING. We don't know. We don't have proof." Rodney spat the words.

John matched Rodney's defiant look with one of his own, "Proof of what!"

"Proof of NOTHING!" Rodney narrowed his eyes. "And you can't keep me here when there's NOTHING wrong with me!"

He made to get off the bed but Carson pinned him with a threatening glare, "You stay on that bed or I'll strap ye there. Now ye've been missing all afternoon. Ye missed the staff meeting. Then when ye finally make it t'supper you are clearly dehydrated, ye look weak as a wee bairn. Cadman told me she saw Radek takin' ye to yer quarters right before ye came to supper and that ye were shakin' like a leaf. And how that I've finally got ye here I can see minor electrical burns along yer arms!"

"And he was limping." A deep voice interjected.

"Aye! I was getting to that. Thank you!" Carson turned to see that Sheppard's new Satedan had join him.

"Yes!" Rodney spat, "Thank-you Dr. Chewbacca."

Carson turned back on Rodney, "Stop yer bleedin' avoidance. Either tell me where ye've been all afternoon or I'll have Dr. Biro do a full examination."

"Carson! She examines dead people!" Rodney's eyes bulged in alarm. "Oh alright, FINE! I got stuck in a tank. The MINOR burns are from when it shorted out. Electricity uh…" Rodney suddenly paled as he tried to explain, "It uh sort of arched around a bit. Fried my lap-top too I think. I haven't really looked at it yet."

"A tank?" John furrowed his brows, "Atlantis has tanks?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Not THAT kind of tank, Rambo! A desalination tank on the lower level. I was trying to repair it and got stuck inside."

"You got stuck inside." John repeated sceptically.

Rodney hated repeating himself at the best of times, "YES. That's what I said. Isn't it?"

"And you made that happen ALL by yourself." John prodded further.

When Rodney didn't answer immediately Radek did it for him, "Not all by himself. Kavanagh sealed him in and left him there." He jabbed a finger in Rodney's direction, "And you can stop saying we don't have proof. It does not matter. We know he did."

"Aye," Carson sighed and put a steadying hand on Rodney's shoulder, "I did notice what a good mood he seemed to be in when I saw him late in the afternoon. It was pretty obvious he was up to something. How long were ye in there, lad?"

It was Radek who answered again when Rodney didn't, "At least five hours. Maybe six."

Johns fists were clenched now and Radek could easily imagine smoke coming out of his ears. The Satedan at his side didn't look much happier, "Why didn't you call for help?"

Radek answered again, "The tanks are sound-proof and have some yet unidentified property that prevents radio signals from getting in or out…"

Carson felt the shoulder beneath his hand quiver as Radek continued to describe the tank and he turned back to see Rodney looking alarmingly ill, "Bloody hell. Radek stop."

Radek cut off in the middle of describing the smaller size of the tanks on the inside, compared to the outer bulk, and the fortune that there was an operational oxygen circulation system within the tanks. His eyes widened when he realized what he had done, "Sorry, Rodney."

Rodney just focussed on getting his breathing under control.

John looked at where he knew Teyla was standing just outside the infirmary door and she nodded in understanding. She would fill Dr. Weir in on the situation, while Ronon and John stayed with Rodney.

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Dr. Weir sat at her desk, her expression diplomatic but deadly serious. Kavanagh leaned back casually in the chair across from her, arms folded.

"You're right Dr. Kavanagh. We can't prove that you intentionally sealed Dr. McKay in that tank and left him there. However, I think you'll find that the opinions of myself, and the other members of this expedition, matter a great deal both here and on Earth. That opinion of you, right now, is very low.

I have been given every reason to send you back to earth with a long list of personality conflicts and outright insubordination. If you were sent back to earth with that, I doubt it would possible for you to find another placement any time soon. As you've already seen."

She let that hang. She knew that he had tried to defame her leadership and even tried to demand other choice placements when returned to earth. He'd had quite an unpleasant shock when he discovered that the attempt had only succeeded in making enemies of a lot of people in high places. She'd taken pity on him and, thinking he'd learned his lesson, allowed him to return to Atlantis. "So here is what I am offering you now. You are to withdraw these formal charges against Dr. Zelenka and in return I will give you yet another chance to prove yourself. The alternative is that I send you back to earth with the Daedalus as soon as it returns."

Kavanagh stuck his tongue in his cheek and slowly withdrew his letter of complaint, "Very well… Dr Weir. Consider the complaint withdrawn."

"Good. I expect you to use this opportunity to mend some bridges. You're an intelligent man, one of the best, or you wouldn't be here. But you will be useless to us if your people skills and judgement don't improve."

Kavanagh nodded and rose to leave but Weir wasn't finished, "One more thing before you go. I'd be extra nice to the military for the next little while. I heard that slime that shot out of the showers after that mysterious power surge caused quite a few rashes in very unpleasant places." The look of horror and the nervous swallow before he left was quite satisfying.

If she had thought that Kavanagh actually intended to cause permanent harm, there would have been no room for negotiating. But the science team had no idea that the tanks were radio-proof. It was natural for there to be rivalry within the department. And Kavanagh simply had deadly poor judgement. It was enough to limit his responsibilities and keep him watched if it meant she wouldn't have to send Radek back to earth to face assault charges. Now she had to talk Rodney's team into accepting that Kavanagh was being given another chance. Then again, maybe he'd be safer at the Alpha site. Dr. Weir added reassigning Kavanagh to the Alpha site, at least temporarily, to her morning agenda tomorrow.

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-Star Gate Command. Cheyenne Mountain. Earth-

General Landry looked grimly between the file on his desk and the insufferable man sitting in the seat in front of him. If the NID thought they were going to make trouble in his base on his watch, they better be up for a fight. Richard Woolsey, NID, the balding bespectacled champion of civilian supervision over top secret military programs, and general pain in the ass, wore an equally grim expression.

"Why is this only now coming to my attention?" Landry motioned to the file, "How does something like this remain absent from the SGC files of a man like Dr. Rodney McKay? Do you really expect me to believe that this is only coming to light now, given his work with Area 51 prior to this, and the Pentagon!"

Woolsey didn't even flinch at the Generals clearly rising blood-pressure, "Shocking. I know. Clearly some policies on information sharing need to be adjusted."

"Clearly," That was one thing Landry could agree with Woolsey on. He doubted there would be much more.

Then Woolsey was quick to add, "Although… it's not as if the CIA knows about the Stargate program either…"

Landry's facial expression alone was enough to suggest to Woolsey that he move on.

"Be that as it may, do you want the official explanation first?" the spectacled man offered courteously.

"Go ahead," Landry's tone indicated that the unofficial explanation had better be good and the official one better be short.

"The official explanation is that due to his young age during the time that he was aiding the CIA, all cases involving him were sealed for his own protection. This incident was tucked away with those files." He paused for effect, "The unofficial explanation is that they believed the facility which they raided to be an authorized and secret military operation, and that secreting away the files was necessary to protect both the boy and themselves from their own government."

Landry nodded and cut to the tough questions, "If they believed the experiments were authorized then why did they raid the facility?"

Woolsey looked offended that the question was even posed, "Maybe because it was the RIGHT thing to do. Maybe they recognized the need for some checks and balances and the responsibility of the government to act within the law. And maybe they just felt protective of him because he was one of there's. He'd worked for them."

"Maybe," Landry conceded. "So why is this coming up now?"

"Recent intelligence has revealed strong indications that the organization which held Dr. McKay for 2 years has been incorporated into the Trust, and what's more, that they intend to revive this project." He motioned to the file.

Landry leaned forward in a gesture of annoyance, "Well then, where's the rest of the file?"

Woolsey looked confused for a moment, "Rest of the file?"

Landry injected a tone of command into his voice, "What they were doing. What the experiment was all about. All this pretty much says was that McKay was missing, then he was found."

Woolsey rolled his eyes, "I assure you General. It's all there. At least, everything the CIA had on record. According to the records, by the time they reached the facility it was already abandoned and all the computers were destroyed. We have no idea what they were doing. The only reason we even know about this or were able to draw a connection is because the Trust has been looking for Dr. McKay. It seems a large portion of the original research was lost and they believe if they had Dr. McKay their chances of succeeding would be higher. The good news is we have no reason to believe they know anything about Atlantis, so they won't find him."

"Why are they so interested in this experiment now, after all these years?" Landry was liking the sound of this less and less.

"Whatever it was they were working on, the Trust believes it could offer a key line of defence against the Priors of the Ori. If Dr. McKay can tell us what they were working on, maybe we can determine the Trusts next move and stop them." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter with a presidential seal. "Now that you've been filled in, I have here a letter of authorization to travel to Atlantis and speak with Dr. McKay."

Landry took the proffered letter and began to open it, "Isn't this a little out of your remit?"

Woolsey adjust his glasses and gathered his briefcase, "Actually, it's exactly within my remit. The NID wasn't around to prevent whatever happened all those years ago. But we're here now, and we're not going to let it happen again."

Surprised at that answer, Landry looked up from the letter and seemed to consider the other man. He might just be developing a grudging respect. "The Daedalus leaves at the end of the week."

Woolsey smiled appreciatively. He knew full well that the general had connections and could have put up a fight if he'd wanted to, "Thank you General. I'm already packed."

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	6. Secrets

ch5

-Atlantis, Pegasus -

Dr. Kate Heightmeyer smiled serenely as she picked up her now empty meal tray and deposited it in the mess-hall tray rack.

"Ma'am". The two Marines she had been sitting with nodded polite farewells, but there smiles were controlled and formal, their postures guarded. She sighed inwardly when she turned to leave the mess hall, but was careful to keep her own posture serene and her smile natural. She imagined the two marines would visibly relax once she left the mess hall, and so she did. They didn't intend to be unkind. They couldn't help but act like they needed to make a 'sane and mentally balanced' impression on her every freaking time they saw her. They all did it to some extent.

Only when her office door slid shut behind her did she let her smile falter and fail. She'd had no illusions what it would be like when she had agreed to join the Atlantis mission. On earth she had been meticulous about keeping her work life separate from her actual life. She would never consider taking on a friend or family member as a patient. But in joining the Atlantis expedition she knew that the line would no longer be maintainable. She lived at work and worked at home. Patients were all she had here. It was something she had prepared herself to accept, but it was difficult at times.

Kate sat at her desk and opened the file with her afternoon schedule. Her next appointment was Rodney McKay. She wasn't sure she was feeling up to it, but she couldn't risk rescheduling. It would be impossible to predict when she could next get him in here.

Of all the patients she'd ever had, he was the most confounding and the most frustrating. He never wanted her help when the situations most obviously warranted it. It took an order from Beckett and Weir, and an 'If I have to, so do you' lecture from Col. Sheppard to get him to sit down to be assessed following a particularly stressful mission.

Then, from time to time, he would book an appointment and show up on time at her door. He'd fidget nervously, look as though he was about to say something deep and profound… and then… "I miss my cat."

At least, that had been the diversion when he'd booked an appointment before the Wraith attack. It had been sweet at first, for the first thirty minutes or so, but two hours about his damn cat? It was obvious avoidance but any attempt on her part to circumnavigate or even get a word in edgewise was smartly rebuffed. It was like that every time. And it was exasperating.

She wished she knew how to help him, but his personal walls were made of thick reinforced steel, and he seemed set against allowing them to be broken down. So she suggested to him that he should indulge in an activity beyond work that would allow him to express himself or get his mind off things. Everything he did day in and day out was directed towards protecting Atlantis and defeating the Wraith. That couldn't be healthy. But all appearances suggested that he'd ignored her advice.

As surely as no other patient had ever made her feel so exasperated, neither had one made her feel as desperate to help. Those expressive blue eyes didn't hide nearly as much he wanted them to. She thought he tried to divert attention from them with exaggerated hand gestures and scathing remarks. Still, she had seen that the hurt and the fear were always there, spilling out of those eyes in one form or another.

But she could never say it. He had to. That was the nature of her job and there-in lay the frustration.

Today's appointment was of the involuntary sort. A discussion about Dr. McKay's claustrophobia had been prescribed by Dr Beckett.

When McKay finally arrived at her office a quarter of an hour late, it was because Col. Sheppard had frog-marched him there. John had smiled, told her to call him if Rodney made any trouble, and swiftly left her office.

Rodney then paced in a little line while explaining to her that he was extremely busy with extremely important work and needed this appointment to take as little time as possible. He then explained that as she was an intelligent person she was sure she would understand that he couldn't explain his claustrophobia because it was a phobia… an irrational fear, thereby indicating that it has no rationale. The way it felt was succinctly described as bad, and the ways to deal with it were in a neat little paperback manual he picked up while he was in university. He folded his arms and turned to her, his posture and lifted chin daring her to come up with anything he'd left out. His eye-lids narrowed arrogantly, but his eyes could still be heard. And they were saying, 'Please don't hurt me.'

"Rodney, please sit down." Kate motioned to the comfortable looking chair beside where she was already sitting, overlooking an ocean view.

He shifted uncomfortably before unfolding his arms and swiftly sitting.

Kate reached over and lay her hand on one of his, "You are right that a phobia is the bodies irrationally exaggerated fear response to a given stimuli. However, that does not mean that the source of that phobia is irrational or any less significant and relevant." She paused to let that sink in. "Let's try to think about what first caused you to be afraid of small spaces. Can you remember when it first started or any particular event that first triggered it?"

That's when it all went to hell, again. For an instant it looked as though she might have broken through, then the wall went up. He fabricated a story about some bullies locking him in an outhouse. He exclaimed that the stench alone would have sent a seasoned soldier crying for his mother. "And then there was the time the ugliest girl in school pulled me into the broom-closet." His pose was speculative and his voice expressively inflected, but there was utterly no sign of any fear or phobia other than that his deflections might prove ineffective.

Kate listened, as was her job. The appointment ended. He thanked her, saying he felt he could breathe easier and a huge weight had been lifted. And he left, happy to be returning to his routine. Of course they hadn't actually worked through anything. But she could never say that. He had to. That was the nature of her job.

There-in lay the frustration.

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-Cheyenne Mountain, Earth-

"'Already packed' indeed!" General Landry griped inwardly as he watched the additional crates being organized for beaming onto the Daedalus. The final and largest of the crates being sealed sent an unpleasant chill down his spine. It was an iron chamber, smaller on the inside than it was on the outside, totally sound-proof, totally light-proof, with more tubes than were necessary for simply oxygen circulation. His daughter had given him a brief explanation when he'd been foolish enough to casually ask what the hell it was. They didn't know what it was used for, but McKay had been inside it when they found him. Landry recalled the section of McKay's official file that cited claustrophobia and hoped he wouldn't regret allowing the NID investigation to proceed without a fight. They didn't have a reputation for sensitivity.

A nervous cough came from somewhere behind the General, and he closed his eyes to summon what remained of his patience.

"Uh. Sir? … sorry to interrupt but uh," Dr Lee stammered ungracefully.

"Spit it out". Landry sounded more irritated than he intended. The mousy mans nervous mannerisms were impossible to get used to. He was good at his job, but lacked confidence and the constant apologies were hard to take. Did Landry look like he was doing anything that couldn't stand to be interrupted?

"General O'Neil and General Hammond are here to see you sir. And they say to delay the departure of the Daedalus."

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Lt. Col Cameron Mitchell fidgeted in his seat, his excitement rising higher and higher the longer he had to wait for the meeting to begin. How could the rest of his team be sitting so relaxed looking? I mean, sure, they'd been doing this whole Gate Travel, saving the world repeatedly thing awhile now. But they were about to be sent on some new awesome universe changing adventure and whatever it was, was so important… earth changing… so universally amazing… it was gonna take not one, but THREE multiple starred generals to tell them about it. He loved this job.

Now if only that NID guy and Col. Caldwell would get here they could find out where they were going next. Finally, the bespectacled balding guy from NID came rushing in ahead of the Captain of the Daedalus. Well, technically his rank was Col, not Captain. But for some reason when you run a space ship you get called a captain anyway.

"What is the meaning of this?" The NID guy looked tense, and he was waving a presidential letter.

"Relax Mr. Woolsey. We've just invited you here for some of that information sharing we discussed." General Landry seemed to know the right thing to say to diffuse the hyper NID guy because he relaxed and took a seat next to Caldwell.

General Hammond began the meeting, "It has recently been brought to our attention by the NID that the Trust is attempting to revive an old experiment."

"We thought that sounded kinda interesting so we had our guys dig up a little more." General O'Neil smiled smugly at Mr Woolsey, sending louder than words, 'haha, our intel is better'.

The other two generals simply looked at him a moment before Hammond continued, "Our operatives have learned that the Trust hopes they will develop not only a defensive, but ultimately a counter-offensive weapon to utilize against the Prior's of the Ori."

"Counter Weapon?" the surprise was evident on Mr Woolsey's face, and O'Neil looked all the more smug. Mitchell had his suspicions that O'Neil was commanding the intelligence team.

"That's what I said," Hammond didn't seem keen on repeating himself.

O'Neil shifted his hands into his pockets and shrugged casually, "Apparently these experiments they're looking to revive are to do with Telekinesis, ESP…, Twilight Zone type stuff." He waggled his fingers by his head to illustrate the sheer wackiness.

The three generals looked over those gathered at the table as though expecting a response so Mitchell piped up, "The Trust must be getting pretty desperate."

Dr. Daniel Jackson frowned thoughtfully and tapped his pen a few times, "Actually…that makes sense."

All eyes turn towards Daniel and Mitchell sat up straighter in surprise, "It does?"

"Well yes." Jackson said it like it was obvious, then thankfully explained anyway, "We know that the Ori empower the Priors by somehow artificially charging and maintaining activity in otherwise inactive parts of the Priors brain."

O'Neil lifted both his eye-brows incredulously, "We do?"

"Well…" Daniel amended, "Dr Lam and I strongly suspect it. But we do know that the ancients didn't ascend all at once. There were stages to the ascension process during which various abilities would manifest themselves; as in the case of the clone of Anubis that we found."

Landry seemed to feel the meeting was being taken off track a little, "Yes. That's all well and good. But the Trust is trying to develop these abilities in humans."

"But sir," Sam winced slightly and tried not to sound like she was smarter than almost everyone else there except Daniel, "The Ancients and the Ori were humans. They were just genetically advanced humans. And the Priors were just regular humans until they were changed by the Ori."

"Yes," Daniel agreed, "And there is evidence that the Ancients didn't evolve, entirely, without help either. It's actually very interesting. An energy being was found caged in an Ancient Laboratory in Atlantis and Dr. McKay believed…"

"Daniel." O'Neil gently reminded Jackson that now wasn't the best time.

"Sorry," Daniel clucked his tongue and got back on track, "So, as I was saying, it would make sense that successfully developing such abilities as ESP and Telekinesis could lead to a way to match the powers of a Prior. Except of course that the Priors aren't actually fully in control of what they can do and the moment they take full control and do something that diverts from the will of the Ori they… they well…"

Jackson glanced uncomfortably at Teal'c who finished for him, "They die." That memory was a little raw for everyone.

Daniel pursed his lips, "Yes. Thank you."

"So, what we need to know is do you guys think this is for real? Could the Trust do this?" General O'Neil looked dead serious.

It was Sam who answered this time, "Yes sir, it's possible. Actually, if they're reviving and old experiment to do this then it's likely the original met with some success. Otherwise, why bother?"

Daniel seemed to consider this, "It would help if we had some more information. What do we know about the original experiments?"

General Landry shook his head, "Not a lot. Unfortunately, almost everything was destroyed during a CIA raid to retrieve the sole surviving test subject. And if the CIA bothered to question the subject, they didn't put it in the files."

"Sole surviving!" Daniel leant forward, looking more than a little alarmed.

General Hammond shifted his stance in a way that said it was time to get down to business, "The Pentagon believes that the viability of any possible counter-weapon against the Ori must be explored. SG-1, you are to work closely with Dr. Lam and General O'Neil to help determine the viability of such an experiment here on earth. Dr. Lam is preparing a full report for Dr Beckett as we speak. You will continue to gather further intelligence here on earth and combine it both with your research on ancient knowledge and particularly with any intel which Col Caldwell and Mr Woolsey here are able to acquire. Col Caldwell, you are to stay with Mr Woolsey on Atlantis while you both question the surviving test subject. Have Dr. Novak take the Daedalus into position to receive updates from earth. If anything significant comes up we'll have her move into communications range with Atlantis and let you know. You can send any pertinent information back to earth through Atlantis' Stargate."

A confused look is exchanged between all four members of SG-1.

"Atlantis?" Jackson finally asked.

At that a sympathetic look was cast his way, courtesy of General O'Neil, "You're still not going." That would be owing to the fact that once Jackson got there, giant wild space-monkeys probably wouldn't be able to drag him away, even if the giant wild space-monkeys spoke Ancient and claimed to hold the mysteries of the universe.

"Who is it sir?" Sam seemed to have gotten over the fact that she wasn't going to Atlantis.

"Everything more that you need to know is in the top secret files that are now being handed out to you." Some folders that would probably look plain if it weren't for all the classified stickers wall-papering them were pulled out from under the table and handed out by General O'Neil. He paused when he noticed the other two Generals watching him, "What? Am I not supposed to keep them under the table?"

Landry looked like he was going to say something, but he was cut off by an exclamation by Sam, "Oh my God…"

"What!" Mitchell opened his folder quickly to see what was so epic that it actually got a reaction out of his team-mate, "oh…" He looks back up at Sam.

"Dr McKay?" Jackson glanced at Sam and then at O'Neil, "But wouldn't we know if he could…"

"Make things float? Read minds? Hokey things like that?" O'Neil filled in the blank.

"That's what you're all going to find out, with a few provisions that come directly from the President and which the former President has also expressed his personal support for. They asked that I personally make sure you get the message." Hammond looked at Caldwell and the NID guy as he spoke. "Dr. McKay has the trust and support of the White-House. He served well in the Pentagon. And you will treat him accordingly."

"Of course," Woolsey was quick to agree.

"Of course," Caldwell looked a bit more reluctant. He probably saw it as limiting his ability to succeed at the mission.

"Good," Hammond seemed satisfied, "Any questions?"

"So…" All eyes turned to Col. Cameron Mitchell, who had been pretty quiet thus-far. "ESP, and Telekinesis, like on TV, are real..?

Everyone was quiet a moment, waiting to see if it was a hypothetical question, before Jackson slowly answered "...Yes… I think we've established that."

A kiddish grin stretched across Mitchell's face, "That is so cool. You know we have THE best job, right?"

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	7. Synchronicity

Ch 6

Rodney rested his elbows on his lab desk and his head in his hands. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. It wasn't that he was tired. In fact he was wired. It was always near impossible for him to sleep until he had worn out his body to the point where he could stop thinking. If he even tried to sleep before then, he was restless at best or had nightmares at worst. He usually slept best off-world or after missions, after hiking through forests, fields, or swamps for hours.

Right now he just wanted to focus on his work, reading through his team's progress reports for their various experiments. Anything to keep his mind off of the past month. It had been a really, really, really bad month. It was like the universe was conspiring against him.

First there was the whole insubordination issue that had led to the use of his office. Nightmares he hadn't had for years had returned. Then there was the whole tank incident, which had only made the nightmares worse. It still made him shudder to think about it. 'So don't!' he chided himself. Then he was happily and successfully avoiding therapy for that for almost two weeks when lo and behold...Sheppard snagged him between meetings and said if he didn't go he'd ground the whole team and they'd all blame Rodney McKay. Like that's fair. Then that damned prison colony had forced him, FORCED him to work for them, fixing the unfixable jumper. He'd hated that more than any member of his team could possibly know or understand. On top of all that, Bobby Freeman was becoming more difficult to avoid now that he was learning his way around. That, and McKay suspected he was conspiring with Radek to know when he could be caught taking meals. Making up new stories about what his school had been like, and keeping them straight, was getting a little difficult. Not that his mind wasn't up to it. It was just that he should be devoting his intellect to worm-hole theory and zed pm's. The man was almost as impossible to blow-off as John Sheppard.

If he didn't know better he'd say it was some demented Stephen King version of Jungian Synchronicity which the universe had designed explicitly to torture Rodney McKay.

"Rodney?" Rodney jumped in his seat, before realizing it was just Radek.

"What! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!" He snapped angrily. Anger was a safe emotion, useful for smothering away other feelings.

Radek rolled his eyes, apparently not taking the likelihood of heart attack very seriously, "It is getting late. You go. I will finish up here."

The answer to that was short and snippy, "What are you, nuts? It's not even midnight!"

"Yes. But you are obviously not concentrating. You work hard. You should go get some sleep at normal hour like normal human being." The Czech folded his arms stubbornly.

"I'm not tired!" the reply came out as more petulant than anything else.

But Radek was patient and insistent, "You have been staring at same page for over half an hour. Go. You do not need to do everything yourself. This is a simple task." He punctuated his point with a gentle nudge to prod Rodney from the stool.

"Ok ok ok! You don't have to beat me!" He grumbled. Then he picked up his coffee and left without further complaint. Radek looked surprised that Rodney had given up so readily. But Rodney had somewhere else he'd like to be. He needed to let out some steam.

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"Good evening Doctor Zelenka.", one of the night guards greeted Radek as he entered the darkened control room of Atlantis. Unlike most cities, Atlantis was not full of bright lights. By day the gate room, like most of Atlantis, was brightly lit by the tall stained glass windows that the Ancients had decorated most of the city with. So when night fell outside the city, it fell within as well. The dim lights of the city provided enough light to get around, but little enough that one was always reminded it was night.

Radek nodded to the guards sleepily, with his lap top under one arm and a hot mug of coffee in the other. It was two in the morning and Radek had been about to enter his quarters for the evening when he'd gotten a call from the night technician overseeing Atlantis systems, babbling incoherent apologies and swearing on his life he had followed only procedures.

As soon as the guard said his name the technician's wide-eyed head popped up from behind the control station, "I just can't figure out what I did wrong. I've triple checked the procedures and…"

Zelenka lifted a hand to silence the panicked technician. It was the young mans first day…well night, on the job, since arriving with a handful of other reinforcements from earth. Zelenka patted the young man on the shoulder. The name-tag read, Jason Fielding. "Do not worry so. You are here because you are good at what you do. It is most likely a malfunction which you have caught before it can become serious. We will see."

The young man didn't seem to take much comfort in that as his voice quavered, "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just the last thing Dr. McKay said before leaving me here was 'Don't break anything,' I guess it got to me."

Both of the night guards smirked at that. Zelenka shook his head at their obvious enjoyment of the situation before giving Fielding a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The new technician had been among the last arrivals and had the misfortune of witnessing an unusual moment of true McKay wrath. The subsequent reassigning of the subject of that wrath to the Alpha site not long after had left a lasting impression on the newcomers. In time the fear McKay had inspired would ease. In the mean-time Radek was happy to remain on call to support the newest additions to the science team.

The main screen showed a map of the city with a spectrum of colour pulsing erratically in mainly populated areas. Radek's brows furrowed and he leaned closer to the screen, "I have not seen this before". He reached forward and typed in a command that should back the systems up to the normal settings. The screen remained unchanged. "And it is as you said, it will not go back." Radek patted the technicians shoulder, "This should not be happening, you were right to call me."

The technician relaxed significantly, "Thank you sir. What should we do? Reset the whole system."

Zelenka half shrugged, "We take scientific approach first, and try to understand what this is." He motioned to the colourful areas on the map. "You see, these colours focus on populated areas. Perhaps it is heat sensors of some sort?"

"Maybe sir, but then what would be creating that much heat out there?" The technician pointed to an area far from the population that Zelenka had not noticed though its colours were more intense and active than in any other area.

"Hmph," Zelenka replied thoughtfully, "What is in that area?"

"I don't know sir. The system won't let us back up to any of the other maps."

Zelenka nodded, "Yes, of course…. Then if we cannot go back, perhaps we can go forward."

"Sir?"

Radek pointed at the colourful area that was far from the population, "Zoom in on that tower. Perhaps we can learn more about what is there that is also elsewhere. Extrapolate answer by comparison."

The moment Radek pressed the enter key, piano music that sounded like it had popped out of the universes most bone chilling horror movie boomed into the room, causing his heart to leap from his chest. The marines on duty clutched their weapons at ready and searched for a threat in the moments it took them to calm their hearts and realize that it was only music, "Turn it off!" They yelled up to the control level where Radek and Fielding were. "Turn it off!"

The hammering in Radek's chest slowed and he suddenly became aware that he was sitting on the floor, back to back with the rookie technician.

"Uh, sir?" the technician stammered, "I don't think that was internal heat sensors."

Radek pulled himself up from the embarrassing position and helped the other man do the same, "I am inclined to agree."

The two spent a few minutes frantically pressing buttons before one of the marines joined them in the control area, "Can't you guys shut it off?"

Radek tried once more then shook his head, "Go and get Dr. McKay. Though, I would be surprised if he is not already on his way." He highly suspected that this new function was tied into the city wide comm. System.

The music built to a crescendo and slipped seamlessly into a theme that should have belonged to an American comic book super villain.

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Col. John Sheppard swore under his breath and jogged toward the gate room, gun at ready. He'd tried contacting his on duty men after the music blasting through Atlantis had shot him out of bed. No doubt he couldn't be heard over the volume. Possibilities spun through his military trained mind. This could be an enemy infiltration. Taking control of the cities central communication systems in this manner could be a strategy to disorient them while interfering with communications at the same time. It could… His thought processes was interrupted by one of his men calling after him from behind. Hey, wasn't that guy supposed to be on duty in the Gate room? "Report, Lieutenant!"

"Yes sir. Dr. Zelenka is in the control room working on the problem now. They discovered a new function in the ancient systems which he has been unable to deactivate. He sent me to find Dr. McKay, sir, but he wasn't in his quarters or in any of the labs. I'm on my way back to the control room now." The marine yelled over the music.

Sheppard suddenly became acutely aware of his drawn weapon and quickly put it away and came out of his stealth double o seven pose. "Right. Good then. Let's go."

They entered the gate room to find Dr. Weir already striding up to the control level, with eyes wide and bedraggled bed-head, "What the hell is going on in here?"

Apparently, being terrified out of sleep with loud music made her grumpy. She would have hated boot camp.

Sheppard and the marine strode up the stairs to join her.

Radek's fingers worked frantically over the keyboard, "It is previously undiscovered function in ancient system. We have been trying to switch it off. Where is Dr. McKay?"

The marine shook his head, though Radek's attention was turned fully on the monitor, "Couldn't find him anywhere."

The music came to an end punctuated with…, Super-villain laughter? Not just any super villain laugher either. It was the dark gleeful cackle reserved for when he and Rodney were working alone and scheduling out the worst maintenance assignments. When he'd first met the stand-offish arrogant, yet strangely energetic, even bouncy, man he wouldn't have guessed he'd have such a playful side. But there it was. And it was one of the reasons Radek enjoyed working with Dr. McKay.

"Rodney?" Apparently Elizabeth had been privy to that side of Rodney as well.

The query was immediately answered by the crackling of a power-bar wrapper and the sound of contented munching.

Col. Sheppard flipped his radio to the command channel, "McKay, this is Col Sheppard, please respond."

There was a long pause and no answer. Sheppard sighed and clenched his teeth in annoyance. He was going to duct-tape that radio to his absent-minded scientist's hip and crazy-glue it to the on position. They needed him to get here and fix this, and the private man probably wouldn't be too happy he was being listened to by the entire city. "Can you get me his location?"

Radek was about to answer but fell silent, along with the rest of the rooms growing number of curious occupants, when a slow, simple melody floated through the sound system. A three beat, building in mesmerizing complexity. It sounded like discovery. It sounded like excitement, passion, love, the way he'd felt when he first travelled through the Star-gate to Pegasus. It sounded personal. Then he remembered that Rodney did not know he was being heard and he blushed, "Um, top level, far east tower."

Sheppard jerked out of his own reverie and nodded quietly before walking to the transporter with Dr. Weir close behind.

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Rodney relished the feeling of the stress draining from him as he played. He hated to admit it but Heightmeyer had been completely right when she told him he needed an outlet – as in an interest beyond the scientific pursuits their lives all depended on. He had sworn he'd never play again when he gave it up all those years ago. But it had helped him survive his childhood so he at least knew it could be therapeutic.

Here in a far tower of Atlantis where no-one had any reason to snoop and with the city life-sign detector switched off for this location specifically, he felt safe. There was no risk of anyone else hearing. There was no one else to judge or measure his performance. No way to fail. This was just for him, and it was strangely freeing. At first he had stuck to the memorized pieces of Mozart and others he had learned a child. He concentrated on recreating each to perfection. Then he'd gotten more courageous. Now he made up his own music, expressing what he thought and how he felt about…everything.

He'd been sneaking out here now and then since they had returned from earth. He didn't know if his music was any good, or if it was too clinical, and for once he didn't care, because it was how he felt and that's all that mattered.

He played about things he never talked about. Then he made fun of the villainy that was Kavanagh, who incidentally shared a similar theme with the Wraith Sheppard named Steve. He liked the way Sheppard could laugh at things like that, the same way Rodney had joked about the overdramatic Goa'uld Anubis back at SGC. Now he played what he felt about Atlantis.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth's voice startled him into hitting a discord.

"Elizabeth?" a shock of embarrassment ran through him as he turned and he could feel the colour drain from his face when he saw both John and Elizabeth standing there. "Um… how much did you? ... I mean why are you? ... I mean…ah..." He stammered until he realized they weren't looking at him. They were looking past him.

Rodney glanced quickly between the intruders and the piano and realized that sneaking off with all those supplies might not be smiled upon, "oh… that…I can explain that."

"Did you BUILD that?" Rodney took in John's slack jawed expression and felt mildly insulted.

And he clung to that emotion because it was better than the naked vulnerability he had been feeling. He prepared an acerbic reply, "Well don't look so surprised Colonel! It's a little less complicated than the EM pulse generator you used in my lab!"

John's expression shifted from wonder to horror, "You built that!"

Rodney allowed his ire to build, "YES! I built that! I have a Masters in Engineering Sheppard! It's one of those things we engineers do. We engineer!"

"Dr McKay," Elizabeth broke him out of his rant.

He looked at her, briefly apologetic. "Uh, why are you both here, anyway?"

Sheppard began to answer but received a sharp nudge from Elizabeth. She held a finger to her lips. Ok. That was odd… Rodney was about to say as much when she walked over and began to speak quietly in his ear. She was barely audible. He strained to hear. … ancient sound system…. Uhuh … It's a newly found function? That's interesting…. Picks up sound from anywhere in the city and transmits it to everywhere else in the city … That could come in handy! … And it's currently locked on this room…. Oh God. Nonononononono.

Humiliated! He was humiliated. Everyone in the entire base had been listening. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and instead stepped by his two friends and walked straight for the transporter. Everyone had heard enough. He never should have listened to Heightmeyer. This was a disaster.

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John's hazel eyes were fixed in an expression of speculative concern as he stepped in line behind Rodney. His pet physicist wasn't normally the kinda guy to hide his light under a bushel. He was good. A normal Rodney should be yelling it from the rooftops. Instead the moody physicist was about as upset as John had ever seen him.

They paused outside the lift and waited for Elizabeth while she took a last look at the grand piano. John couldn't blame her. It was pretty damned impressive. The whole base of the thing looked like it was made with that weird polished clear-blue wood Lorne's team had gathered samples of from planet P3-something or other. The keys were cut fragments of the crystals that were used in the Ancient Tech all over the city. They were probably taken from the growing stock of hopelessly broken ones. When the light hit them they appeared to glow as though they were active.

Of course, McKay had chosen a pretty perfect room too. John doubted it was just for the acoustics, although the acoustics in the semi-circular room seemed pretty good. The whole ceiling was transparent, as were the walls along the circular part of the room. The flat part had the transporter and what looked like was probably another room with closed doors. The view was probably pretty amazing, but John didn't stop to check it out.

In the few minutes it took them to reach the gate-room, Sheppard watched his friends face become a stoic mask. But the mask seemed much thinner than usual.

The curious crowd that had gathered in the gate-room received a cursory glance before Rodney raised his voice and stormed across the room, "Alright! Everyone who isn't useful, get out of the way. As in find somewhere else to be."

The acid in his tone probably would have been more believable if he'd look anyone in the eye. A look from John sent any Marines not on duty away. A look from Radek sent the bulk of the science personnel following.

Rodney snapped his fingers at the night technician who had been working with Dr.Z. "You, new guy…" Rodney headed straight for another lap top and began typing in it. "Reset our interface systems ……" he let that hang as he typed in a few more commands then pointed, "Now."

John felt a bit worried when the 'new guy' started to look panicked, "It won't switch back on!"

Rodney made an annoyed sound, "Yes! I know it won't. Gimme ten seconds…right…" Something that looked like Ancient popped up on the main screen. Radek took position beside Rodney. "There we go…there's our problem." Rodney points at a particular line for the benefit of Radek.

"What is?" Elizabeth usually liked to understand what was going on with her city.

Rodney, ever the multi-tasker, continued to explain as he pushed the night technician out of the way and typed into the laptop. "Our interface programming and the ancient interface programming are having a bit of an argument. You see, we've written a user-friendly interface for the city internal comm systems to send a message from the command room to the rest of the city, or even to listen to the entire city at once. But our interface doesn't account for this new two-way function that zero's in on one location while blocking all others, or the sound scanners. It results in a kind of feed back loop of incompatible commands…which is now… fixed." No sooner had he said it than the main monitor flickered and returned to normal.

Rodney turned the lap-top back over the technician, who hesitantly wheeled his chair back over, "Now it's just a simple patch, so go easy on it. The programmers will look at it in the morning. And, before you ask, the reason we haven't seen this function before is probably because it was accidentally repaired by one of the crews we've had systematically fixing the flooded areas and along with the areas damaged by the Wraith. This is the first time the operation has been functional since the Zed PM was installed."

He paused and looked at the few remaining Atlantean's in the room, "Are we all good now? Yes? Anyone else planning on breaking anything vital before breakfast? No? Good! Then good night!" And with that he stormed out of the room.

The technician looked at the lap-top display in disbelief and back up to Radek, "SIMPLE patch? He's kidding, right?"

The young man was probably a skilled programmer himself. Radek patted him on the shoulder, "He's not. You will get used to it."

"Blimey! He seemed a mite upset." John hadn't even noticed Carson standing there before.

John shrugged casually in reply, "Oh… he probably just needs some sleep. He'll be better in the morning." But he was beginning to wonder if he really knew Rodney at all. All that time off-world, and while the rest of the team talked Rodney would usually have his nose stuck in his lap-top. When they hiked, Rodney complained. And through all their verbal sparring, John began to realize, they'd never really talked about much that wasn't directly related to events on Atlantis or to a mission. He'd picked up a few tid-bits of info by teasing Rodney into losing his temper, but they'd never really talked. He'd never had that problem with Aiden, Teyla, or even Ronon. And it was beginning to bother him about Rodney McKay.

John's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a nearby computer chirping. He hoped they wouldn't have to call Rodney back.

Radek was investigating the offending blip in an instant, probably hoping the same thing, "It is the Daedalus. They just entered communications range. They are sending through encrypted files for the attention of Dr Beckett and Dr Heightmeyer, and another for Col Sheppard and Dr Weir… they ask that you be notified as soon as possible. A separate message is now coming through for Dr. McKay, with advice that he is to receive it only after you have read yours."

"Well that's weird…" John frowned between Carson and Elizabeth.

"Aye…" Carson looked somewhere between thoughtful and worried. Elizabeth just looked confused.

So John attempted a possible explanation, "Maybe they just know he gets grumpy so they didn't want to wake him unless they didn't absolutely have to."

Elizabeth looked doubtful and amused. Ok, so it was a bad attempt. "Maybe…since we're up anyway let's take a look now. Dr.Zelenka, would you please decrypt those, and bring them to the briefing room for us to view together? And… you better call Dr. Heightmeyer too. I doubt she's asleep now anyway."

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	8. Trust Issues

Ch 7

The Goa'uld shifted the host body in the throne of the earth-ship, Daedalus. The humans called it the command seat, and it was unworthily uncomfortable. Somewhere in the back of the human mind he could sense the suppressed human consciousness watching all that the Goa'uld did. The inferior being foolishly clung to the hope that someone would notice that he wasn't himself. The hope was a persistent, nagging irritant to the Goa'uld. Beside him stood another nagging irritant. There had been a lot of those since he'd been assigned to this mission. He turned to regard Mr. Woolsey through the hosts eyes.

"Do you mind reminding me what the point of that was?" The Goa'uld within Caldwell referred to the information they'd just sent ahead to Atlantis, on the insistence of this pathetic specimen standing beside his throne. The presence would never be tolerated had the Goa'uld not been posing as a human himself. His only consolation was that if he continued to prove successful in this infiltration, he would rise in both status and power.

"Trust me Colonel," the insolent man spoke as though to an equal and motioned for both of them speak somewhere more privately. Once they were in a near-by office he continued, "In my experience I've learned to be sensitive to certain, shall we say, dynamics. These people risk their lives together every day, they will have become very close and we need to show some understanding of that. If we show up unannounced and suddenly try to launch an investigation they'll close ranks and protect Dr. McKay as though we were trying to harm him. We'd be treated like invaders, which we would be. This way, they have plenty of warning. They'll have lots of time to think about what we're trying to accomplish. They can see that we're on their side, that they will have valued input in the investigation process and so assurance that he'll be treated well. That will make it a lot easier on all of us in the long run. Believe me."

The Goa'uld rolled his host eyes, "How do you know you haven't given them the warning they need to just more successfully close ranks. Personally, I prefer an element of surprise. Our mission is to get McKay to answer our questions. That might be easier if we can catch him off-guard and harder if he has time to realize that he doesn't have to answer to us."

"I disagree, Colonel. This is a unique situation. And I remind you that we have additional instructions as to how Dr McKay is to be treated. I'd take those instructions seriously if I were you."

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-Atlantis – Briefing room -

When they'd first opened the files there had been a few quiet expletives. Carson had said a breathless 'bloody hell'. Elizabeth had said, 'Oh my God." Zelenka had said something John didn't understand. Now the conference room was completely quiet as they read, and re-read the message. John figured everyone had pretty much stopped re-reading a while ago actually. Now they, like him, were trying to decide how they felt. Apparently that had been this guy Woolsey's idea; that they should soak it all in now so they know what they're doing when they approach McKay about it later.

Angry. Sheppard finally decided that was how he felt. That, and a little hurt. He and the team had sat with McKay through all those meals and listened to him tell Sergeant Freeman all those stories about the special school for smart kids that he'd gone to. Granted, they were short and few as he always seemed to find a way to either get Freeman talking about his own training or else hide behind his lap-top and claim he was working on something that every life in Atlantis depended on. But still… when it came down to it… what this all showed was that after everything they'd been through, McKay didn't trust his team. He didn't trust John. As a leader, that stung.

It must have shown on his face because Elizabeth and Carson were looking at him with concern. Dr Heightmeyer wasn't really looking at anything. She was probably replaying every session she'd ever had with Rodney. Zelenka looked pretty stunned. He'd been staring at his laptop monitor with his hand over his mouth since he'd started on Carson and Heightmeyer's files. John hadn't really bothered looking at those.

"John? How are you feeling about all this?" Elizabeth sounded concerned too.

John wondered how honest he should be, "Well…I'm a little surprised that he never even hinted at it in all the time he's spent with his team."

Carson pursed his lips and huffed, "Well that's hardly a surprise now, is it. It's not exactly something I'd bring up around a camp-fire, or while I'm being shot at either. I'm more surprised he never mentioned anything of it to his physician. There could be serious complications." He motioned to the medical files.

"We're his team!" John clenched his teeth, "If it can affect him on the field we should know about it. And it obviously affects him."

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth used her diplomat tone, "I'm sure we all feel there were times when Rodney could have shared some of this with us, but chose not to. It's possible he doesn't even remember much of it. And Carson, don't you think any complications would have come up by now? Though I confess that I'm not really qualified to understand most of what's in your files. I'm sure John isn't either."

A blush of embarrassment quickly crossed Carson's face when he realized he'd failed to explain his portion of the information to the non-science participants of the meeting. He assumed a mask of medical professionalism before he began, "Of course. I'm sorry. Basically, the chamber he was found in was almost certainly a gas-chamber of some sort. A great variety of compounds, many of which couldn't be identified at the time, were found lining some of the tubes leading into the chamber and coating the chamber walls. There are no records of any blood samples being taken from the patient so it's impossible to say how much was in his system."

John considered that a moment, "Well, that sounds pretty serious. And I think it's pretty serious that he never mentioned it. Especially since I AM sure that he does remember."

Elizabeth lent forward and rested her arms on the table, "John, you know you and Rodney have both been involved in classified missions or projects in the past that neither of you can discuss. How is this so different?"

That was an easy question for John, "This is different. The other situations are national security, this is…"

He didn't get to finish because Zelenka suddenly slammed his hand down on the table and stood, rambling at John in loud Czech. John was beginning to think this guy had a temper. All he could do was stare at Zelenka until he was finished before asking, "Pardon?"

"I say you are idiot! And so are you!" He pointed at both Carson and John, "If you both think that this is about you. Of course he does not talk of it! Neither would you! It is not a question of whether he trusts you. He is only capable of so much trust because of this. You would be too. If we are his friends, we must teach him to trust."

"Dr. Zelenka is right." Heightmeyer finally spoke up. John had almost forgotten she was there. "About Rodney, I mean. If we pressure him about this it will only cause him to withdraw. He has to make the decision to open up about this, himself."

"What do you suggest, Dr. Heightmeyer?" Elizabeth seemed ready to defer the decision to the cities shrink. John didn't like that.

"I suggest that we give him his message from the Daedalus, and let him decide what he wants to do about it. We should let him know that we won't force him to talk to us about it. And we should remember that he's still the same man. He's as fit for work today as he was yesterday. Only our knowledge of him has changed. I think John is right about him remembering. That means he's been hiding a long time. Now that information is coming out on it's own I believe he'll gradually become more open to talking about it if we give him the chance."

Sheppard didn't like that at all, "So we just leave him alone and hope he comes around? What happens when the Daedalus gets here? Woolsey and Caldwell have a mission. They aren't going to just turn around and leave because he doesn't feel like talking."

"That's exactly what they'll do John." Elizabeth's answer surprised him, "He's a civilian. And he's a Canadian, not an American. This is a civilian run mission. We will do all we can to help him reach a point where he's willing to talk to them by the time they get here. But if he hasn't, they're just going to have to find some other way to get the information they need."

Carson shifted guiltily, still chagrined by Radek's scolding, "I will need to do a complete examination eventually. I didn't account for any of this when I've examined him before. I'd have been incredibly more thorough if I'd known. There could be long-term complications." He signed and ran a hand through his hair, "But, it can wait, considering how long it's waited already. No need to over-whelm him."

"Thank you Carson," Elizabeth offered a small smile of encouragement.

But John folded his arms, still pretty unhappy about the plan of no action, "What about the Trust?"

"It's a concern. But it's not an immediate concern. Rodney is safe here for now." Elizabeth's expression left no room for argument.

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Once Rodney had finished panicking over the fact that the Trust was hunting him he had reacted pretty much as they'd expected. Although initially calming him had taken Elizabeth and John repeating to him that the Trust had no way of knowing about Atlantis or even getting to Pegasus if they did, so he was perfectly safe. Once that had sunk in, it was like a wall had gone up between him and everyone in the room.

Elizabeth had expected that much. But she hadn't been prepared for the depth of his distrust, or for how hurt she'd be by it.

He'd turned sharply to her and shot two stunning words, "Diplomatic immunity."

It was the last thing she'd expected, and so she didn't quite understand at first, "What?"

He cast an accusational look at Carson before turning back to Elizabeth, "You cannot use me to develop a biological weapon against my will." Carson blanched and his jaw dropped.

Rodney ploughed onward, aggressively jabbing a finger at the Canadian Flag patch on his sleeve, "This is an international mission. The Atlantis project in run by no single nation," he held up a finger to punctuate his point, "We represent earth. I represent Canada. That little fact essentially makes me a scientific ambassador; on loan from my Country, Canada, for the express purpose only of our nation's co-operation with the Atlantis project. You and Caldwell can't force me work on an unrelated project or answer questions unrelated to this expedition." He'd grouped them with Caldwell! "Besides, the Trust is an American problem." He raised his chin arrogantly and folded his arms, daring a rebuttal.

Johns chair clattered to the floor as he stood forcefully, "The Trust is an Earth problem and it'll be YOUR problem if you go back to earth and they get their hands on you!"

The McKay arrogance drained away and was replaced by something far worse. The most hopeless expression she'd ever seen. He looked at Elizabeth as though she'd driven a dagger into him, "You're sending me back to Earth?"

She had to swallow the lump growing in her throat before she could answer, "No. You are still a valued member of this expedition. You are our top scientist and we need you here. And you're right. We can't force you to cooperate with Col. Caldwell's investigation or with Mr. Woolsey. I won't try to force you to talk to us either. But I do hope that you'll choose to. We're here to help you, Rodney. I want you to think about that." Could he so easily believe she'd do that?

Rodney checked his watch and shifted his feet, some of his arrogance recovered, "In that case, I have a meeting with the Environmentalists in ten minutes. Should I cancel, or can I, uh…"

"You can go," Elizabeth hadn't even finished saying it before he'd shot out the door.

Sheppard cast a doubtful look at Heightmeyer, "So…you think he'll just come talk to us if we leave him alone."

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The meeting ended shortly after that. Radek walked swiftly from the room, no doubt he had a full work schedule for the day. Sheppard jogged to catch up with him, "Hey Doc! Wait up."

Zelenka turned and folded his arms. The look on his face said, 'I was right, you were wrong. Admit it now.'

So Sheppard took the wisest course of action and held up his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to say I think you were right." Zelenka waited for him to elaborate, "We're McKay's friends. We need to show him he can trust us."

"Good." Radek responded with succinct approval.

"Which is why I want you on my special ops team," Johns expression was completely serious.

And that concerned Radek, "Special ops?"

"That's right," Sheppard smiled conspiratorially, "We're going to get McKay to talk to us."

"No! Absolutely not!" Zelenka started walking again, "Dr Weir and Dr Heightmeyer say we are not to pressure him."

"Not about the whole experiment thing. But we could get him to talk to us about little stuff. Then, when he sees that talking to us about little stuff isn't so bad maybe then he'll want to trust us about some of the big stuff." Sheppard now had a friendly arm draped over Radek's shoulders. "So, how about it?"

Radek narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "I suppose that makes sense. But how do you propose I get him talking about the little things? We always discuss projects and theories. He is rarely forthcoming about much else."

"Well, I wouldn't need a special ops team if it were easy. I know you'll think of something. I have to go brief the rest of the team. I'll catch up with you later." Sheppard winked conspiratorially and jogged away.

All the way to his first meeting, in the chemistry lab, Radek wondered what he should try and get Rodney to talk to him about. He was about to put it out of his mind so he could work when one of the female chemists walked by, humming a pretty melody. Where had he heard that? Then he remembered it. He had heard it last night during the incident with the sound-system and McKay's piano. He had completely forgotten about it. Perhaps that was a good place to start with McKay.

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The plotting Colonels next stop was the infirmary, "Hey, Carson, can we talk?"

"Of course lad," Carson set down what he was doing and led John into his office before closing the door.

"It's about Rodney."

"Aye. I figured as much." Carson motioned to one of the comfortable office chairs.

John settled into the chair, then stood again, feeling too wired. "Caldwell didn't send us all that information just for our benefit. Did he?"

"Nay, he didn't. Colonel Caldwell wants me to be able to confirm or deny whether Rodney has any special abilities by the time he gets here. I'm not sure if I'd want to tell him if I knew. But the possibility is concerning. It would increase the likelihood of complications. I never would have…"

John rolled his eyes, "You can't possibly think… I mean we would know… wouldn't we?"

"Not necessarily. He's a smart man. I've no doubt he could hide anything he wanted to." Carson actually looked serious and it was beginning to make John think. "If ye think back on it, have ye ever noticed anything unusual on missions? You've seen him in situations no-one else here has…"

Now John was actually thinking about it. He couldn't believe he was considering this. "Well… now that you mention it he does have pretty good instincts. He can get out of the way of danger pretty quick sometimes. Sometimes he seems to know who the bad-guys are before we do, but that's to be expected when he's paranoid all the time. Right?" This conversation was getting a little too weird.

"Most probably," Carson agreed, but then reluctantly added, "But it would be best to be absolutely certain. I confess I'm not quite sure how to approach him about it. After this morning, I'm not so sure he'll let me near him. He looked at me like he thought I'd…" He trailed off.

John knew that Carson took his oaths very seriously. That a friend would actually be afraid of his intentions as a physician, cut deeply. "So you need him to trust you. I'm putting together a team to help with that. How would you like to be part of a top secret trust building mission?"

The mischievous glint in John's eyes caused Carson to back away cautiously, "What have ye got in mind now?"

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It wasn't until early evening that Radek was able to join Rodney in his lab. It was the first time Rodney had sat still long enough to be found. Radek sat down next to him and plopped a couple of wrapped sandwiches and a box of orange juice down in front of his friend. He hadn't been seen at meals all day. "Prosím. Máš hlad?" (Here you are. Are you hungry?).

Rodney looked up from his work and glanced around him in confusion, "Are you talking to me!"

"Vasrozumí!" (You understand) Radek jabbed a finger at Rodney and nodded agreement with himself.

Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance, "Radek! English please? Assuming of course that you want me to be able to respond to anything you say!"

"They say that if one is good at music they will be good at math. They say same about music and languages. You are a mathematician, and a programmer, and you have ear for music. That means you should be good at languages! And you are! You know Ancient and you learned Wraith! So how is it you claim to be so terrible at human languages?" The Czech pushed his glasses up and folded his arms, awaiting an answer.

"What are you on about? I have more important things to do than fill my head with useless information. Leave languages to the anthropologists!" Rodney unwrapped one of the sandwiches and shoved half of it into his mouth as he spoke.

"You say same thing in Russia, until they caught you speaking Russian in your sleep! One of the scientists you worked with is stationed on the Daedalus. He told me about it!" A straw was poked into the juice box and put into McKay's other hand. "It is apple. No citrus. Drink before you choke."

McKay swallowed and huffed irritably, "I was probably just repeating something I'd heard during the day without understanding what it meant. Where are you going with this anyway? You want me to learn Czech? I don't have time. And I don't care what the voodoo head-shrinkers say," he referred scathingly to Psychologists. "Being musically inclined does not automatically translate to being linguistically inclined."

"I think it does. Take me for example. I play violin, and I learned English very quickly."

"Well, good for you!" Rodney moved to turn back to his work.

But Radek wasn't about to be dismissed so easily, "You are Canadian, yet you claim not to speak French. They teach this in your schools, do they not?"

Rodney seemed to summon his patience before turning an annoyed look on Radek, "I didn't go to school in Canada. I went to school in the States. We only summered in Canada. Don't you have any work to do?"

"Then you must have learned Spanish, yes?" Radek insisted.

"NO! I was exempt because I was Canadian. What is with the twenty questions? If you don't have any work to do then that explains why I have SO MUCH OF IT! Here, you can have the pleasure of reviewing the gravitational field study for the planet with all those moons." Rodney thrust a disk unceremoniously towards Radek and turned back to his own monitor with an air of finality.

They worked in silence for about five minutes before Radek spoke again, "Where did you summer in Canada?"

"RADEK!"

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	9. Mission Improbable

Ch 8

A few days later Ronon followed his team leader reluctantly down Atlantis corridors. Sheppard had been acting strangely around McKay for days, pressuring him to answer all sorts of personal questions about his feelings and his family. Sheppard had also been striking up 'casual' conversations with Sergeant Freeman. He hadn't gotten much more than McKay's favourite earth foods and more bragging about the stuff McKay could fix and make back then.

The scientist in question was hiding in his lab now. Ronon didn't really blame him. "Are you sure about this Sheppard?"

"Yes! Stop asking that. This is a good plan." Sheppard spoke in a hushed tone.

"Shouldn't we wait for Teyla?" Ronon suggested. He hoped Teyla could talk some sense into Sheppard. She was usually good at that sort of thing.

"We only need the two of us for this part of the plan anyway. Besides, she might not be back from the main-land until supper time and by then it will be time for phase two." Sheppard nodded innocently at a couple of marines who passed him by.

Ronon rolled his eyes, "I still say we should just ask him."

"We can't. He's been impossible to get into any kind of conversation lately. He won't even talk to Zelenka about work anymore. He's been sending all these damn Memo's. Even if we did ask him and he did talk, he might not tell us the truth. This way we can test him." Sheppard explained confidently.

"So, you want him to trust you, but you can't trust him." Ronon hoped that sounded as stupid to Sheppard as it did to him.

"No! Yes… Sort of but it's complicated." Sheppard explained but didn't.

"It always is." Ronon replied.

Sheppard stopped himself from asking what Ronon meant by that and instead took a new approach, "It's for Dr. Beckett. He needs to know if Rodney can do these things. It's for his health."

Ronon looked extremely sceptical, "Dr. Beckett asked you to do this?"

"Not directly, no. But that's not the point. If he stops it or sees it coming, we'll know." Sheppard explained for what must have been the tenth time since he'd roped the runner into his special ops team.

"And if he doesn't?" Ronon asked… again.

"Then we'll apologize." Sheppard hushed as they were approaching Rodney's lab.

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Rodney sat hunched on his stool. He was working on a theory alone in his lab again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Being around people was just tiring lately. More even than usual. Bobby Freeman had finally given up on tracking him down all the time. Radek had mentioned at one point that the old acquaintance was transferring back to the Daedalus, to give him more time to visit his mother on stop-overs. Rodney thought that would be best for him. Maybe he'd even send a letter with him… She'd worried for Rodney. It seemed right to send her something.

He didn't hear when the door to his lab slipped open and Sheppard snuck into the room, all the way to the other side of the lab. "Hey, Rodney!"

Rodney jumped in his seat and turned in time to see Sheppard throw something fast and hard at him… but not in time to duck. "Ow! OW! What was that for!"

Sheppard shrugged, "Just testing."

Rodney rubbed the spot on his head where he'd been hit, "If that was a reflex test I want you to know that was cruel and unusual. Gah! And dangerous! Am I bleeding?"

Rodney was still rubbing the spot on his head and checking his hand for blood when Ronon snuck into the door way behind him, holding a basketball. "Hey, McKay."

"What!" Rodney wasn't even fully turned when the large ball flew into him and knocked him to the floor.

"Ronon!" Sheppard scolded, "You were supposed to wait for my signal.

"Sorry," The Satedan didn't sound very apologetic though. He walked over to McKay and held out his hand to help him up.

Rodney just lay there, stunned, "Ow…"

"Sorry," Ronon repeated himself, but this time sounded like he meant it.

McKay finally took his hand, "What is this? Highschool? Are you two going to stuff me in a locker next?"

"We were just testing." Ronon offered the feeble explanation.

"For what!" Rodney challenged, as if he didn't know.

"Reflexes", John fibbed and smiled lop-sidedly.

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Well. If you're done torturing me. I have work to do. Get out!" McKay pointed at the door.

Ronon left silently, but Sheppard paused at the door, "Ok. But you better be at supper tonight or I'm sending Ronon with a bowling ball."

"Oh, you don't even have one!" Rodney snipped at John's retreating back.

He was tenderly rubbing the welt on his side where Ronon's ball had hit when Teyla's voice came from the door, "Dr McKay?" He did the wisest thing he could think of on such short notice. He ducked low and covered his head.

Teyla looked around the room to see if there was a threat, and finding none turned back to him, "Dr McKay. Are you alright?"

He peeked out from under his arms, "You… uh… aren't going to throw something at me?"

Now she looked truly confused, "Why would I do that? I was just looking for Ronon and Col. Sheppard. They had something to tell me."

"Oh." Rodney stood, "Well then. You just missed them."

"I see… and you are alright?"

"Yes. Of course. But a bit busy, so if you could just…" He motioned at the door.

"Of course", Teyla hesitated but then bowed her head politely and left.

Rodney sighed and slouched tenderly back into his stool. He was pretty sure what kind of reflexes they were testing for. But if they were throwing things at him to see what happened then the intel must be pretty bad. Or maybe the research had really all been destroyed. He hadn't dared hope. All the better if it was.

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That evening Rodney walked briskly down the hall, clutching his laptop like a security blanket. If he looked busy enough, he could get something to eat and not be disturbed. He'd grabbed a small breakfast in the morning, but had been subsisting on power-bars for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to a decent meal when he rounded the corner and froze, bewildered. Pastel floral centre-pieces and candles decorated all the tables, and the rooms light had been dimmed.

A few personnel looked up from their meals and smirked at his apparent confusion. McKay bristled at their obvious amusement and his pride wouldn't allow him to ask anyone what was going on. Straight backed and scowling irritably he collected his meal and searched for someplace where he could sit alone and work while he ate. But all the table arrangements had been changed so that there were no single tables. Whose dumb idea had that been?

Suddenly Teyla appeared at his side and dragged him to a table for five, where Sheppard, Ronon, and Carson were already seated. Damn. He was caught.

No matter! He still had his lap-top! Rodney flipped the screen around to turn it into a tablet pc, and positioned it on his lap to rest against the edge of the table. He stared at the screen and his brow furrowed in concentration as he absently forked some potato.

"Can ye not stop working long enough to eat, lad?" The Scottish accent cut through Rodney's concentration, which wasn't that great given his poor diet that day anyway.

So he snipped, "I'm a busy man."

"Must be why we didn't see you at lunch either." Sheppard noted, with a meaningful look at Carson. This was so not fair. He was being ganged up on again. Sheppard had been hounding and haunting him for the past week, poking and prodding and throwing things and…

"What are you, stalking me!" Rodney spared a glare for Sheppard but was met only with that irritatingly patient smile.

Ronon stabbed a piece of meat and spoke with his mouth full, "Didn't see you at breakfast either."

Carson's fork clattered to his plate and he looked scathingly at Rodney.

Rodney held up a hand at Carson to ward off the lecture he knew the physician was preparing for, "I ate breakfast! I had some of that weird looking fruit, and a lump of cheese, and some of that Athosian toasty crackery bread thing." He glared at Ronon, "And I took it with me."

Carson narrowed his eyes as he picked up his fork again… placated that Rodney had eaten breakfast, but still holding a grudge about lunch.

Now seemed to Teyla like a good time begin the subject of conversation which Sheppard had assigned for this 'Team Building' mission. "I think this holiday is a wonderful tradition."

Ronon nodded curt agreement, "It is honourable. But you honour it differently on your home-world. Don't you?"

Carson nodded, "Aye. Holidays are honoured differently in different countries as well. This particular Holiday is even celebrated on different days in some countries."

"Is that not confusing?" Teyla asked, curiously.

"Aye, it can be. Especially in international situations like this." Carson admitted.

Rodney's eyes narrowed curiously from behind his lap-top at this cryptic conversation.

Ronon took a long swig of his drink, "So how do you celebrate?"

Carson leaned back and folded his arms reminiscently, "I'd pick wild-flowers and bring breakfast in bed, every year."

Teyla smiled at this, "That sounds lovely."

"Aye," A hint of sadness edged Carson's voice, "But I can't do that here now, can I?"

Ronon shrugged, "There are many ways to honour someone. You honour her now with your words, good memories, and good food… And these flower things on the table." He eyed the arrangements doubtfully.

Beckett smiled appreciatively, "Aye."

Alright, that was it for Rodney. He couldn't take it anymore. "Honour who?"

Teyla tilted her head and looked between Sheppard and Rodney, "Do you not have this holiday in Canada?"

Sheppard was grinning at McKay. It was too rare for him to know something that McKay didn't, "Oh they do! McKay just doesn't know what day it is." He smirked smugly with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

Rodney huffed, "Oh you are so immature."

This only made Sheppard more amused, "Alright McKay. It's Mothers Day. Well, Mothering Sunday. In England."

A strange look crossed McKay's face and he turned back to his laptop, "Hmph," became his non-committal reply.

Teyla watched McKay type for a few moments, "Col. Sheppard, we have heard much of Carson's wonderful Mother today. But you have not mentioned yours."

"Well, I was pretty young when she died. But I remember she used to read me bed-time stories," He smiled reminiscently.

"That is why you tell stories to the Athosian children." Teyla's eyes lit up at the revelation.

"I suppose it is." John confessed.

She bowed her head in the Athosian manner that showed respect, "Then her legacy is greatly appreciated by my people."

They all watched McKay type some more, all but Ronon who just kept eating, before Teyla spoke again, "My mother used to braid my hair and sing to me."

They watched him a few moments more. McKay silently tapped at his key-board.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to work at the dinner table?" Sheppard teased, hoping to cajole the scientist into interacting with them. Even in the form of a friendly argument.

The typing stammered and stopped. When the snappy physicist didn't respond immediately, Carson and Sheppard exchanged a concerned glance.

Sensing a problem, Teyla attempted a diplomatic solution, "Do you not wish to take part in the traditional honouring of our Mothers with us, Dr. McKay?" That was not one of her better moments.

The laptop closed and McKay stood.

Sheppard stood with him, "Look, Rodney, I didn't mean..."

But Rodney snarled over him, "You don't want me to work at the table. Fine! I'll go to my lab." He stalked out of the cafeteria, leaving his food barely touched.

Teyla frowned after him, looking utterly miserable, "I do not understand how, but I believe I made things worse."

Ronon chucked down his fork and turned to Teyla, "It's not your fault. Sheppard's plan was bad."

Sheppard looked indignant, "Hey."

Carson stared in the direction Rodney had retreated in. "I'm sorry lad. But he's right. This isn't working."

Sheppard thought the physician might be forming permanent worry lines.

"I'm not surprised," Ronon stated bluntly as he sat down, as though it had been obvious to him from the beginning. He looked at Sheppard as though it should have been plain to him too.

Sheppard folded his arms in a huff, "Think you can do better?"

"I know I can," The former Runner muffled out between mouthfuls.

That was a challenge. "Ok, prove it. You get him in here by breakfast, talking about something completely not work related, really opening up, and… I'll give you half the snickers stash I have coming on the Daedalus.

The Satedan downed his second glass of water in one, "Why breakfast?"

"Because, it's before our next mission, and we're running out of time." Sheppard watched as Ronon inhaled a cupcake.

"Ok." Ronon didn't even blink as he accepted the impossible challenge.

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It was late when Ronon found Rodney on one of the northern balconies; or early, depending on your perspective. He was leaning against the railing and looking out at the sea. It was rarely calm. So much so, that a feint line of light could be seen along the horizon as evidence that the better part of the night had already passed. Ronon leaned against the railing beside Rodney and watched with him for a long while before speaking.

"Sateda had no bodies of water this large. There were lakes, and smaller oceans. But nothing like this."

Rodney glanced sideways at the Satedan. Ronon was usually a man of few words. Fewer words. Sheppard must be desperate. He seemed to consider whether to answer the other man. Ronon didn't seem in any hurry, though he was still looking at him as though waiting so… "Neither does earth. I don't think many planets have this much water. There are statistical reasons that I won't go into, though even without those I don't think it would surprise me. Everything in this Galaxy seems to do things bigger." Ronon kept looking at him… Was it for further explanation? "You know, bigger oceans, bigger cities," He motioned around him, "bigger whales, bigger life sucking bugs…"

Ronon's look shifted to sceptical curiosity, "Earth has life-sucking bugs?"

Rodney nodded, "They're called mosquitoes. They're nasty little things."

The Satedan seemed to accept that and moved on, "And whales are what you call the big fish in the ocean."

"They're ocean mammals, and yes. There's quite a variety. That's something earth has a lot of. Variety, I mean." McKay was a natural teacher. Ronon had noticed that he was always enthusiastic to fill in the gaps in someone else's knowledge. Sarcastically if it was something he thought the other person should know. Patiently, when it was something they had no way of knowing. Earth was something Ronon could have no experience with. And home-sickness was something McKay would know Ronon could relate to, and maybe need to hear about.

"You miss it." The runner stated simply.

Rodney imagined the Runner missed Sateda as well, so he admitted, "Some things."

"Like what?" Ronon looked back out across the water as he tossed out the casual question.

"You mean other than food, I presume?" Rodney quipped.

Ronon smirked and nodded. That was another thing he and McKay could often relate on.

"Alright," Rodney turned around and leaned his back against the railing. "I miss the seasons." Rodney tilted his head back thoughtfully and looked up at the sky, "I miss the familiarity of the constellations, though I've memorized these long ago too. It's just not the same. Then there are the little novelties like seeing a movie in a theatre or…"

"What's a movie?" Ronon turned and boosted himself to sit on the railing, facing inward.

"Careful! If you fall, I'm not jumping in after you!" The slight panic in Rodney's voice made Ronon grin and Rodney scowled before giving up and answering the question, "Movies. Like Sheppard's Super Bowl video only with a plot… it tells a story. Actors play out the parts and there's music and special effects."

"Are the legends of Conan and Xena told this way?" Sheppard and McKay had mentioned them a few times before.

"Uh…ya…sort of. Conan was. Xena is on television."

"That box people watch for entertainment."

"Exactly. Movie screens are bigger. And on television you usually have lots of shorter stories told over a long period of time. A movie is one big story told all at once, with popcorn and a big screen." McKay spread his arms wide to show the big screen and bounced when he said pop-corn.

"I see." Ronan grinned at the animation, "Tell me about a movie."

"Hmm…" Rodney thought on it, did that snap-pop he always did when he had an idea, "Star Wars! We've mentioned that to you before."

"You have?" Ronon didn't think so.

"Yes. Han Solo, Chewbacca…" Rodney began then Ronon remembered. Sheppard and McKay had listed the characters before.

"And you called Teyla Princess Leiah. And Sheppard called you R2P0 because you can hack into anything and you never shut…"

"Yes, yes, you get it," Rodney interrupted with a scowl.

Ronon coughed to cover his amusement and straighten his face. Teasing McKay was too much like teasing a younger brother. He could understand why Sheppard did it so often, "So what's the story?"

The Satedan kept one eye on the brightening horizon as his team-mate gained momentum and soon launched into a full re-enactment of Star Wars, complete with sound effects and voices.

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Sheppard was sitting next to Teyla in the mess hall, hoping against hope that Ronon and Rodney would be joining them shortly. Not that he didn't want to keep hold of his chocolate bars. Some things were more important though, and Rodney was one of them. He glanced nervously at Teyla, she was still miserable about what she viewed as her own failure and hoping Ronon would repair what she viewed as the damages she'd done.

Suddenly, the sound of a frighteningly good Yoda impersonation drifted down the hall outside. Followed by Rodney's animated voice, "Then the litte-guy draws his light-sabre and he's flipping all over the place. I mean he totally opens a can of whoop-ass on General Grievious!" vooooooom, schzzzzt, vooooom. The distinctive sounds of Light-sabre's clashing follow.

A deeper voice accompanies the sound effects, "So, why tell the last three parts before the first three?"

Teyla glanced at Sheppard with a look of confusion, "What are they speaking of? This is not work related. Is it?"

Sheppard looked shocked, and then annoyed, "No! It's not! He's telling Ronon a story." That had to be cheating. Getting a certified geek talking about Star Wars all night had to be cheating. Why hadn't he thought of that? He supposed Ronon couldn't have really known about it. But still.

Ronon strolled in, with Rodney close at his side jabbering animatedly, "Weird, isn't it? Apparently it was issues with budget and limitations in effects at the time."

They made a straight line for the food. With Rodney ahead of him now Ronon cast a gloating look in Sheppard's direction before continuing his night-long conversation with Rodney, "You mean special effects? The technology you say makes the stories look more real."

"Right," Rodney picked up his tray. His eyes popped when he saw how much Ronon was piling on, "What are you doing? We're taking the puddle jumper into space on our mission this morning. I really recommend not eating too much.

"I can handle it," The Satedan shrugged, "Tell me more about the Matrix. It has a completely different story but you compared it to Star Wars."

"Again, GROUND breaking special effects. Really! The camera work was like nothing before. The plot concept was pretty interesting too. At least in the first one." As Rodney spoke he actually seemed relaxed, and happy.

Ronon lifted his tray and walked towards Sheppard and Teyla's table with Rodney, "I thought it sounded scary."

McKay stopped in his tracks and looked at Ronon with disbelief, "You did?"

The Satedan thought that machines feeding off humans like wraith, but going one step further and imprisoning them in a virtual-world…sounded very scary. "Yeah. I guess you told it well."

"Good Morning Teyla!" Rodney greeted with a smile as he sat down. It was a contagious smile usually reserved for some exciting new discovery, and Teyla was pleased to see it now.

Things were looking up. Rodney was relaxed. Now Sheppard just had to get Rodney talking more openly about other things before Caldwell got here and took it out of his hands. The Daedalus would arrive this afternoon, but if all went well he and his team would be off on a mission and Rodney would be virtually unreachable for a few days. He'd arranged it all with Dr. Weir, and it had only taken a little convincing.

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That was why Elizabeth was surprised when the gate was dialled, and the jumper checked back so soon.

They were supposed to be going to a nice little world with friendly people, where they could spend a few more days working on McKay. What they found instead was a devastated planet, rubble from a fleet of hive ships, and something that inspired the contagious McKay excitement to new heights.

Before they even arrived back at Atlantis, McKay sent all the data he'd found ahead to his lab. And as soon as the Puddle Jumper landed in Atlantis, McKay was out and jabbering excitedly to Elizabeth. It was the happiest she'd seen him for a while, and it felt good. She didn't have the heart to remind him that Woolsey and Caldwell had arrived and were asking to speak with him.

Elizabeth had to admit, she respected Mr. Woolsey's desire to stop the Trust from pursuing this. And she knew that his efforts in the Pentagon had been a major contributing factor to making the Atlantis program a civilian program.

But that couldn't be her priority right now, and Mr. Woolsey would just have to be patient and understand that. Secrets or no secrets, she knew Rodney McKay and she knew he wasn't ready to talk and he certainly wasn't ready to be grilled. So she sent Rodney bouncing on his way to assemble a team to analyze his data. She could tell Caldwell and Woolsey that he was busy, for now.

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	10. Enemy Within

Ch 9

The Goa'uld within Caldwell plotted patiently while his host body leaned inside the doorway of an empty room in Atlantis. In his hand he held a little screen, showing an image of the hall outside, where he had hidden a small camera.

As soon as the Daedalus had taken orbit it had become clear that McKay intended to avoid him, and the rest of Atlantis' personnel weren't going to try to stop him. He'd waited a day, listened to Dr Zelenka explaining that McKay had a very full schedule and there was no room to make an appointment for at least a week, and even then emergencies could come up… but that he would let McKay know he was being looked for. A promise mirrored by Dr. Weir. When he'd wanted to question McKay's team they were all off on missions. When he wanted to question Zelenka he'd suddenly come down with the flu and so was also 'unavailable'.

So, the Goa'uld Caldwell had now taken matters into his own hands. He would catch McKay off guard, away from his friends, and easily get the information he needed. Psychological weakening was the key. McKay finally appeared in the screen and the Goa'uld waited for the right moment as the physicist unwittingly approached.

"You've been avoiding me." Goa'uld Caldwell stepped out from the room and blocked McKay's path down the corridor. The scientist started and stuttered in surprise. Caldwell was the last person he expected to see here, and the last person he wanted to see at all. The cool-tempered military man made him nervous at the best of times.

"I've been busy." McKay snapped and moved to step around Caldwell, only to find his path blocked again.

"Researching ancient technology?" Goa'uld Caldwell loomed warningly and McKay backed off from a second attempt to get past.

"As a matter of fact, yes!" McKay stepped back a couple of steps and folded his arms protectively.

Goa'uld Caldwell barely suppressed an amused smile. "Your gene therapy must make that a lot easier. Or at least it should have. Isn't it interesting that a man with a mind like yours finds it so hard to control so much of the ancient technology? You still have to get Sheppard to help, don't you? "

McKay's guarded stance dropped a bit to make room for his confusion at the unexpected line of conversation, "Well…it's difficult to concentrate while I'm running tests and taking data… and Dr. Beckett thinks it might have something to do with the gene being artificial. Less effective for some…"

"I don't think the problem is with the gene therapy," Goa'uld Caldwell broke in. "I think you're holding back, afraid of what you could do with it if you really tried."

"What?" The scientist had the audacity to look genuinely confused.

But Goa'uld Caldwell wasn't buying it. "Don't play stupid McKay. How long did you spend alone with the handheld life-signs detector before it stopped flying across the room every time you tried to switch the channel?"

The scientist moved to back further away but Goa'uld Caldwell easily circled around and threatened him against the wall. This was too easy, he didn't even have to touch the man. "You've been holding back a lot, haven't you McKay? You've been lieing to the whole expedition. How did it feel, watching men fight and die when you could have done so much more to help them?"

The scientist quaked, overwhelmed by the sudden confrontation, "You're insane!"

An annoying surge of hope irrupted from the back of the host mind at McKay's proclamation. Goa'uld Caldwell ignored it and gripped McKay's shoulder as he spoke forcefully, "I'm trying to help you!"

Then, all at once, Goa'uld Caldwell backed off and looked kindly at McKay. "There's something you should see. Come with me." The scientist blinked in confusion for a moment before allowing Caldwell to take his arm and lead him back down the hall.

They stopped in front of one of the spare jumper bays and McKay's arm was released. Goa'uld Caldwell moved beside the doors, where he wouldn't be seen from within but could watch McKay's reaction. "Go on. Take a look."

The doors slid open at McKay's mental command, and immediately his face paled as he stared in shock. The iron chamber that haunted his worst nightmares was there. Dr. Carson Beckett and a team were busying themselves about the thing. Taking notes, examining it… Goa'uld Caldwell heard an accented, "Bloody hell. Rodney," come from within the room. Beckett had noticed McKay watching. And apparently McKay had seen enough, because the doors slid shut and McKay shot down the hall and into an empty room.

"McKay!" Goa'uld Caldwell injected concern he didn't feel into his voice and followed close behind. He found McKay breathing quickly, with his head in his hands. He was now in a perfect state to have his thinking guided. The Goa'uld leaned the host body in closely and spoke quietly to convey a compassion he was incapable of, "If you tell us everything you know, maybe we won't need to use you."

The scientist managed a stubborn shake of his head even while hyperventilating, and gasped out, "Carson would… never do that."

Goa'uld Caldwell crouched down on the floor beside where McKay was now kneeling, with his head low, "Even to save two galaxies? Between the Wraith and the Ori, one way or another, McKay, earth needs a much more powerful weapon than anything we have now. Everyone else here understands that. Beckett understands that. Why can't you? Are you really that selfish?"

McKay took a few minutes to make his breathing slow before he forced himself to look Caldwell in the eye, "That's what I'm working on."

"Excuse me?" the Goa'uld had not expected this.

The scientist looked away again and his eyes darted around habitually as he explained. "The-the ancients had a weapon, an incomplete weapon, u-under development. It was called the Arcturus project. I intend to complete the project. Dr. Zelenka and I have just been reviewing the-the information and we can do it. I was just on my way to inform Dr. Weir. Zelenka is meeting me up there. We're going to get a briefing together and set up a team to go back to the planet." McKay stumbled nervously over his words.

"Tell me more," Goa'uld Caldwell helped McKay up and motioned for McKay to walk with him. It was remarkable how quickly the scientist calmed once his mind was focussed on explaining his theories and what they could mean.

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Earth –

Col. Mitchell sauntered down the hall and poked his head into Daniels office. He figured it was a good time to check and see how the brains of the team were doing on the research end of things. Research wasn't really his thing. Surprisingly, Teal'c was with them. Research wasn't really his thing either.

Mitchell was equally surprised by how dim the mood was in the room. Sam looked annoyed and tired. Daniel was reading a book and looked annoyed, tired, and bored. Bored with a book wasn't usually Daniel's M.O. Teal'c looked… well Teal'c just looked like Teal'c. He wasn't exactly the most expressive alien in the universe.

No problem. Morale building was Colonel Mitchell's team leader specialty! They just needed a little pep-talk. "Hey guys! How's it going?" The three looked at him as though his cheerful greeting just might be the straw that broke the camel.

Mitchell wisely wiped the grin off his face, "That bad, huh?"

When no-one else explained further, Sam set aside her book and did the honours. She's nice that way, "We got an update from Atlantis. Colonel Caldwell's put a hold on his and Woolsey's part of the investigation. McKay thinks he's found some sort of Ancient weapon and Colonel Caldwell thinks he shouldn't be distracted from it right now."

"Wait a sec," Mitchell stepped fully into the room, his stance now communicated mild outrage. This offended his ideals! "Isn't this about more than developing a weapon?"

Daniel could understand the feeling, "That's what we thought... But the Pentagon has agreed with Caldwell's recommendations."

Mitchell paused to consider this. "Must be some weapon," was his ground-breaking, but accurate observation.

"Indeed." Teal'c affirmed.

"Which leaves us with nothing," Daniel stuck a finger in the book he was reading to mark his place, and folded his arms with annoyed defeat.

The enthusiastic optimism reared up within Mitchell, refusing that defeat! "Aw! Don't get discouraged! We've got plenty! We've got the greatest minds on earth working right here!" He motioned confidently to the two brightest members of his team. When they didn't buck up he challenged, "I bet Dr. Lam hasn't given up."

"Actually sir," Sam looked loath to pop Mitchell's balloon, "Dr. Lam can't do anything else until we find out more. The human brain is extremely complex. We don't even understand what most of the psychiatric drugs we use actually do. We just know that they somehow work. It's doubtful that the people who did the original experiment even knew exactly what they were doing. And without more information about what exactly they did, all Dr. Lam can do is guess. Even now, we don't even know if what they tried to do even worked the way they wanted it to."

"Ok…" but Mitchell wasn't giving up yet, "Daniel, how about the ancients?"

"The ancients were genetically advanced, and mentally advanced, not chemically enhanced. I seriously doubt there was any genetic tampering involved all those years ago. There might be some clues in whatever mental disciplines the ancients may have incorporated, but they didn't leave a how-to guide behind for the rest of the universe. At least not that I've found yet." Daniel looked loathe to admit he'd hit a real dead-end.

This was a problem. But for Mitchell, all problems have solutions. They just needed to re-assess where they were and maybe look at it from a new angle. "Ok… so where does that leave us?"

Daniel grimaced in embarrassment before holding up the book he was reading, with the cover facing Mitchell.

Mitchell squinted and tilted his head to read it, "'Unleashing Your Psychic Potential', by Madame Rosetta." Sam reluctantly held up her book for viewing as well, 'Releasing your Higher Mind', by Lady Angel-Pixie-Moon." Was that even a real name?

Comprehension hit Mitchell square in the balloon and he slumped into a seat next to Teal'c. He was now comfortably under the grey cloud his team-mates shared, "So… we've really hit rock bottom, huh?"

"Yup."

"Ya."

"It would seem so, Col. Mitchell."

Mitchell considered the short stacks of paper-back books on the floor around the chairs. At least this sort of research was more his speed. He leaned down and picked up one with a picture of pyramid with an eye in it.

That was how O'Neill found them when he meandered down the hall and poked his head into Daniel's office. "We have a lead." He whispered as though in a library before meandering onward.

The team looked at the door where he had been, then at each other, before rushing after him.

"Oh good! You caught up," O'Neill sing-songed as he glanced over his shoulder at SG1 falling in line behind him. "You're all going to a maximum security military prison to talk to one of the inmates. He's a guy by the name of Gregory Blackmoore. He spent years selling information on top secret projects to anyone who would buy it. A few years before he was caught he tried to sell information on a psychic warfare project. The potential buyers laughed at him. But, we figure how many top secret psychic warfare programs can one country have? So we're checking it out. A chopper is waiting for us up top. We'll be home for supper. Any questions?"

They walked in silence a few moments before Colonel Mitchell piped up, "Y'know one thing I really don't get about all this?"

Daniel and Sam exchanged a somewhat worried look, each wondering if they really wanted to know. If it was something obvious then one of them would have to tell him and both hated feeling like they were lording their intelligence over others.

When no-one protested, Mitchell continued, "I get why we didn't have the top secret CIA info on all this. But he was missing for two years."

Sam gave Daniel a look that reminded him it was his turn. Daniel took a deep breath, furrowed his brow, and carefully asked, "Go on…?"

"So," Mitchell continued, "No-one filled out a missing persons report? Wouldn't we have had that, and asked questions about all this sooner?"

Daniel's brows shot up in surprise and he pointed at Mitchell, "That's a good point!"

O'Neill suddenly stopped walking and turned to face them with a considering look. "Change of plans. Sam and Daniel, you go to the prison and question our guy. Mitchell, Teal'c… let's go look up Dr. McKay's parents."

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Several hours later, in an unpopulated corner of Alaska, deep underground, Sam and Daniel sat at a rectangular table in a grey-walled room of a maximum security prison, facing Gregory Blackmoore.

Considering where they were and that all the inmates here were on death row, the man they sat across from was eerily relaxed. His cool blue eyes were intelligent and calculating. Long, silvery hair was pulled back in a tight pony tale. And his lean, elderly frame relaxed casually against the back of his wooden seat. It was impossible to pin-point exactly what it was, but something about the old man conveyed that he was dangerous.

"So… Mr. Blackmoore," Daniel shifted nervously in his own seat. Partly because of the strange presence the old in-mate conveyed, mostly because he wasn't a proponent of the death penalty by any means. "You've been told that if you tell us everything we need to know you'll be granted a… stay of execution."

"Five years." The inmate said it laughingly.

"Right," Daniel needlessly agreed. He really hated the death penalty.

"I don't want it," the inmate waved a hand dismissively, his eyes glinting with a sort of cold humour that sent chills down Daniel's spine. "I'm old. What's another few years? No. What I want is to be let out of here."

"You know we can't give that to you," Sam answered with a hint of annoyance. Good air-force officer that she was, she had limited sympathy for national traitors.

The other man looked unsurprised and unruffled. It seemed like this was a game to him. "Then it's a good thing I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Why?" Daniel asked diplomatically.

Blackmoore took his time to answer. Leaning slightly forward in his chair he seemed to measure Daniel, "So you can understand why I don't feel loyalty to any nation, least of all this one, and why I don't have a problem with what you'd call betrayal of said nation."

Sam's eyes narrowed indignantly at this, "Are you trying to make yourself out to be the good guy?"

The inmate looked at her with patient amusement and shook his head, "No, my dear. There are no good guys."

"How do you figure that?" Sam challenged.

Blackmoore turned to Daniel with his answer, clearly thinking him more worthy of his attention. "You've come seeking information about the Psychic Warfare program." Apparently, it was time to get down to business. "The bulk of the research was taking place between the late 1970's and the early 1980's. The most progress was made in the 80's when the field of test subjects was narrowed, and one subject had particular success. You see, it takes a special kind of mind. The project was nicknamed the Phoenix Project."

"Phoenix?" The anthropologist in Daniel was drawn to the cultural reference.

It was the effect Blackmoore was going for. "Men like these like to give things pretty names to make them sound better than they are. I never liked the name, myself. I thought it was inappropriate."

Curiosity temporarily replaced Sam's dislike of the man, so she asked, "Why?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" The question was asked too gently.

Daniel and Sam exchanged a look. When it was clear he wasn't going to continue unless they humoured the question Sam answered, "Yes."

"I thought it was inappropriate because the Phoenix is a symbol of life and rebirth. It always rises again." The old mans eyes glinted playfully.

"And…" Daniel pressed for more.

"The subjects had a habit of dieing once they started making any real progress. Once they started showing real ability they'd begin progressing by leaps and bounds. Then one day, 'poof'." The old man paused and his eyes glinted darkly on the last word.

"Poof?" A puzzled look crossed Sam's face.

"Up in smoke." He answered casually, as though it were no more distressing than catching a cold. "They all burned. It was like they lost control as they became more powerful. They were more like Icharus, flying too close to the sun, than the Phoenix. All except for one. One survived and got away."

Blackmoore paused teasingly, clearly enjoying his audience.

"Who? How?" Sam and Daniel both asked over one another before exchanging an annoyed look.

The old in-mates eyes crinkled, like a Grand-father telling a story, "A Canadian boy." Sam and Daniel's eyes both widened at the damning confirmation. This had to be the same project.

The old man continued, "He grew powerful, and he didn't lose control. He fooled the testers into thinking he was less powerful than he was. Then one day he implanted a suggestion in the minds of all the people working on the base. He told them to destroy the research and go home. The suggestion took 52 hours to wear off. By the time they scrambled back to the base, the CIA were crawling all over the place."

That explained why the CIA had so little information about the actual experiment.

The two members of SG1 waited to hear more…"Then what?"

The old in-mates eyes twinkled with more delight at his eager listeners, "Then nothing. The project was closed down, funding cut, and everyone involved was told to drop it."

"They didn't want to go after him?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

The old man shrugged casually, "It wasn't deemed to be worth the risk or the costs. I don't know all the details of why. But I can tell you that the treatments wear off over time. The human brain was never meant to work that way."

"What were the treatments?" The last question was asked out of necessity, rather than curiosity.

The man smiled knowingly, as though that were the line of questioning he'd been expecting all along. "Ah, and now the real matter you're concerned about; the weapon. Can you recreate and perfect the experiment? Well, I'm sorry but I wouldn't know. I just reviewed the intelligence the subjects were used to gather. And I doubt that many of the so-called doctors who were involved are even still alive."

Understanding that he had nothing more to tell them, Daniel thanked him for his time.

Just as he and Sam were standing to leave, the old man spoke again, "Or is it the Trust that is interested again?"

They stopped frozen, half risen from their chairs. Sam asked "How do you know about the Trust?"

The old man smiled with a warmth that didn't meet his eyes. "You didn't think they were a new organization, did you? It was the Trust who approved and arranged for the research, and kept it from the bulk of the government."

Sam and Daniel settled back into their seats to hear about the early years of the Trust.

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Sunny Pastures Nursing Home was more like a vacation resort than a hospital for the elderly. The place was so idyllic it was cliché. The Florida sun shone brightly down on a spacious garden dotted with lawn chairs under blossoming trees. Here and there a pretty or handsome nurse massaged lotion into a lounging patient. Tables with umbrella's held patients and guests playing puzzles, or chatting while sipping drinks with little umbrella's poking out the glass. It was a nice place.

It was here that Robert McKay resided. As had his wife until the day she died. Robert McKay had come into some money, at no fault of his own. His daughter had made some good investments and, being a good daughter, had shared her good fortune with both her parents.

Whenever she could, Jeannie McKay would bring the Grand-kids and visit with their dear old Grand-dad, at one of the nice little umbrella'd tables in the gardens of the idyllic Florida Nursing Home. It was at one of the more out of the way tables that Teal'c, Jack O'Neill, and Cameron Mitchell sat staring in disbelief and growing annoyance at quite possibly the most self-centred S.O.B they had ever met. In-between answering questions about the people who had visited the McKay's that fateful day, and the papers they'd so readily signed, the three had heard a lot about the impressive mischief an energetic and brilliant young Rodney McKay had gotten into. But Robert McKay had not been impressed, to say the least.

The old man was just winding down from yet another long rant about the troubles his 'overly-smart' and 'abnormal' son used to cause.

"I would be proud to have a son of such ability," Those who knew Teal'c would detect the growing anger in his voice. He and O'Neill both had strong fatherly instincts and were finding this whole situation a little tough to swallow.

Robert McKay lounged back and sipped at his cooling lemonade, too self absorbed to be aware of the outrage of his listeners, "It wasn't a matter of pride. For all his brains the boy just couldn't keep still and keep out of trouble. We weren't equipped to take care of a child who could make bombs. Certainly not once he became a teenager! All we wanted was a simple, normal family. It wasn't our fault he was a genius." He rolled his eyes and said the word 'genius' as though it were a dirty thing.

"Oh, we can see that." O'Neill carefully phrased the insult so the old man would miss it.

The old man nodded, thinking O'Neill had agreed fully with his views, "That's right. Not like our Jeannie. She knew how to behave herself. Quiet as a mouse, and never got into any trouble."

Mitchell rolled his eyes and bit back the piece of his mind he sorely wanted to give. They weren't here to hear about the one they didn't throw away, "So… you didn't ask for ID…or where they were taking him?"

Robert Mckay huffed and waved a hand dismissively, "The brat wasn't our responsibility anymore. We were glad to be rid of him! The boy was always more trouble than he was worth. Not like his sister, Jeannie…"

"And you…or your wife never arranged to visit him? They never offered to have you visit? Didn't you think that was odd?" O'Neill cut him off before the old man could get started on his wonderful daughter again.

"Why would we? I told you, we signed over custody. They thought it would be easier on the boy if we made a clean break. Better for us too! Did I tell you about the time he…"

O'Neill cut him off again before he could launch into another tale of the 'woes of raising an abnormal' child. "Did he ever contact you? Say… two years later maybe?"

The old man thought for a moment, "Just once. After all the trouble he put us through he actually had the balls to call us a few months later. He was spinning some wild tale about how he was being tortured in a crazy experiment by some mad scientists. Little liar. They recommended we change our number after that. It was a headache. But we did it, and it was the last headache he ever caused us."

The three men digested that for a few moments. So, the young Rodney McKay had somehow managed to get to a phone and call for help, and he'd been ignored. That was just messed up.

The elderly man continued when they said nothing, "Listen. I'm an old man. I put all this behind me years ago. If he's got himself into some kind of trouble again I'd rather not hear about it."

And that seemed to be just about it for Cameron Mitchell. Cameron shot out of his seat and looked like he was about to give Robert McKay a piece of his mind. But Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him back smoothly. "I think we've heard enough." O'Neill gave Teal'c a meaningful look and began to smoothly usher Mitchell away.

Teal'c acknowledged with a nod and turned coolly to the elderly Robert McKay, "Thank-you for your time, Mr. McKay. We will not disturb you again."

Once they were back in the car, Mitchell punched the dashboard a few times while O'Neill and Teal'c watched, until he finally shook his hand in pain.

"Feel better?" O'Neill deadpanned.

Mitchell's response was to point an accusing finger back in the direction of the Nursing Home, "Now that is just not right!"

"Look on the bright side."

The other two men just gave Jack a look that clearly said they weren't on the same page.

"What bright side?" Mitchell asked disbelievingly.

"Two things," O'Neill supplied, "One. We have a possible lead. The Department of Education. Two." He motioned back towards the nursing home and made a sour face, "He's old. He'll die soon anyway."

And so they drove away from the idyllic little nursing home where Robert McKay was living out the last days of an idyllic life, a life in which an 'abnormal' son had no place.

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	11. Miscommunication

ch 10

-Atlantis-

"Hey."

A less than completely confident voice came from the open door to Elizabeth Weir's office. It took a moment for her to register that it really did belong to Dr. Rodney McKay, and he was standing in her door way looking… uncertain? "Come in. Is there something I can help you with?"

Rodney stepped into the room, his hands in his jacket pockets, and regarded her. He was trying to read her expression. Hopeless, he knew, he was a terrible judge of character. He wasn't even sure what it was he wanted to see. "I just… something's been on my mind and I was wondering…"

Elizabeth tempered the grin that threatened to spread across her face and forced down the untimely lump in her throat. It was a small blessing her eyes didn't water. He'd been avoiding her for weeks, or else hiding behind a thick mask of professionalism. Could it be he was finally ready to talk a bit? "Of course Rodney, please come in."

He liked Elizabeth. She was smart, in her own way. Good to work with. He respected that she'd mastered an understanding of the one subject that completely evaded him, humanity. She understood people. "Did you mean what you said before? When you agreed that I couldn't… wouldn't be forced…"

"I meant it." This must be about Caldwell and Woolsey. But hadn't Caldwell post-poned the questioning until after the experiment? "Rodney. I promise. No one is going to force you to talk to anyone."

Rodney digested that while trying to reconcile it with Caldwell's words. He'd said they wouldn't need to use him if he talked. Well, the investigation wasn't directly connected to the Atlantis project. Maybe she didn't realize that other members of staff were involved, "It's just that I saw Dr. Beckett…" Rodney was trying to tell her what he'd seen in the jumper bay, but trailed off again.

Of course. Carson must already have approached him about an examination. He cared. But the timing was not right. She'd have to talk to him about it. Elizabeth winced, "I had hoped that he'd wait a bit longer, until you were more ready."

She knew? Rodney tried to conceal his hurt and disappointment. It was irrational of him. Of course they had to do as was asked of them by SGC and the Pentagon. And what to do with the information they gathered was out of their hands; to be decided by some short-sighted politicians with the combined IQ's of Earthworm Jim and the ambition of Ghenghis Khan.

Elizabeth smiled kindly, or was that diplomatically? "You must know that Dr. Beckett will need to give you a full examination eventually. I'll let him know to wait a-while… and Rodney. I won't lie to you. It would help us a great deal if you would talk to us about what happened…"

Rodney reminded himself that it wasn't her fault. "Thank you."

Elizabeth watched one of her most valued friends turn and walk from her office, seemingly satisfied with her answers. It wasn't much, but maybe he was opening up a little. He seemed to appreciate that a medical examination would be postponed. She had an idea that asking Woolsey and Caldwell to leave might go a long way to solidifying the foundation of trust built on this one little conversation. If Rodney decided he wanted to help, the information could easily be forwarded to them on earth.

She tapped her intercom, "Col. Caldwell. Could I see you in my office please?"

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Something had happened between their post-mission check yesterday and their pre-mission check now. At least that much was obvious to John Sheppard as he watched Rodney's antics in the infirmary. They were getting ready to head back to Arcturus with a full science team and gear.

At first everything seemed pretty normal. McKay griped a lot more than usual about the futility of having to get checked out again when they'd only just had a post-mission check yesterday. John figured it was just because he was so eager to get back to the planet and start working.

But as they neared the infirmary Rodney gradually became more subdued and actually seemed resigned. When John asked if his friend was alright, Rodney snapped defensively, "I'm perfectly healthy. Which is why this is pointless!" So John backed off. He probably just hadn't had enough coffee.

The two men took their usual seat on the edge of side-by-side beds. A pretty nurse came over and started taking John's blood pressure and listened to his heart, and exchanged an amused look with John while Rodney waited. She and the other nurses knew better than to bother trying to examine McKay. He always gave them an impossible time until Carson came and took over. So now they just let him be, and Carson would look after Rodney himself.

Which was why John Sheppard knew something was up when Carson didn't go to Rodney straight away. The physician just stood and watched Rodney from a distance, as though trying to assess his mood before approaching. And Rodney wasn't griping about being kept waiting. He was sitting quietly, not looking at anyone.

John was about to ask what was going on when Carson finally took out his stethoscope and approached Rodney.

"This is just a formality. I imagine you're as healthy today as you were yesterday." Carson attempted jovial but it came out a little too enthusiastically, the way it always did when he was nervous. Rodney didn't respond so Carson continued while hanging his stethoscope around his ears, "Better to be on the safe side though! Especially when you're exploring a whole new galaxy!"

Rodney poorly suppressed a flinch when Carson lifted the metal end of the stethoscope towards Rodney's chest. Carson paused and badly covered a pained look before too cheerily saying, "Right… It's probably still too cold. We'll let that warm up in my pocket a bit more." He hesitated when Rodney didn't respond, but then took out a little medical flashlight. "Right then, let's have a quick look in yer eyes."

When Rodney didn't lift his head Carson gave up on the cheery façade, "Look, Rodney. I don't know what ye thought y'saw but you have to understand…"

"Oh, I understand," Rodney interrupted in a tone that shocked John.

He didn't see the look Rodney gave Carson, but the physician took several steps back before gathering himself and turning to his office. A quick order to another nurse sent her to look after Rodney's pre-mission check.

John had seen enough. He stood and stormed over to Rodney, "What the hell was that all about?"

"I'd rather not talk about it…" the reply was dismissive.

Fine. Rodney didn't want to talk to him. 'Big surprise there,' the man who still stubbornly considered himself Rodney's friend griped inwardly. John was fuming, he might not be able to get anything out of McKay but he wasn't about to back down yet either. And he was getting a little sick of being stone-walled for his efforts on a pretty much daily basis. So he turned towards Carson's office and followed the physician instead. He was going to get answers.

"Beckett? What was that all about?" John asked as the door swooshed closed behind him. Only after he entered did he look and see the physician with his head buried in his arms that rested high on a filing cabinet. Crap. The sensitive bear of a Scott was crying manly Scottish tears. John suddenly felt like an invader. But if Carson minded his presence, he was too polite to say. He quickly wiped away the still welling tears and turned to face John.

"Ach! I'm a right bachle an e's bein' a gipe of a bairn agin! Tha's what! I'm at me wit's end! Did ye see him? Did ye see how he acted like I was goin' t'hurt him? What does he think I am? Ye've got to talk to 'im for me. Ah cannae." The Scott had to be extremely upset to be slipping that strongly into his accent and using words like that.

Sheppard took a few moments to replay the words he could understand before answering… "Ok… Explain to me what happened and I'll give it a shot."

"It's all mah fault! Col. Caldwell told me he'd brought that god-awful thing Rodney was found in. He sent it down so I could take a look at it. So I could get a better understanding of what… I never intended to…" Carson didn't think to mention it had been Caldwell's idea.

"Go on…" Sheppard coaxed. There had to be more, and unfortunately he thought he could guess what.

"Rodney walked in and saw me working on it. He just looked at me like I was some kind of monster and went running off. I'm a bloody Doctor! I heal people! I'd never hurt him!" The physician was passionate about his oaths and his work. That anyone would think he'd cause them harm with his knowledge, let alone a friend, stung deeply. "I've ruined it. He'll never trust me again. I can't even talk to 'im."

John pursed his lips and patted the other mans shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. He was just bad at this sort of thing. "I'm sure it just came as a shock. He knows you. He's always trusted you as a doctor."

Carson made a frustrated sound, "Aye, well he doesn't anymore!"

"I'll talk to him." John assured him and turned to go confront Rodney.

But he re-entered the main infirmary to find that Rodney had already been discharged and was likely waiting in a jumper with the rest of the scientists. Their talk would have to wait until later.

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The door to Rodney's room slid shut behind him and he closed his eyes against the overwhelming sense of failure. Collins was dead. And it didn't make any sense! Somehow something had gone terribly wrong, but he couldn't see where. It was like suddenly being struck blind. Why couldn't anyone else understand why it was important to go back?

Collins death couldn't be for nothing. He was a great scientist. He deserved to be remembered for something great.

All the laws of physics said it should work. It should be possible. He just needed a chance to figure it out, and he couldn't do that working with a computer generated model.

Rodney was startled from his thoughts by a knock on his door. Dammit. He wanted to be left alone. Maybe if he ignored it, whoever it was would just go away.

"Rodney?" The voice of John Sheppard, aka Colonel Pitbull, came from the other side of the door. All hope of the intruder going away on his own evaporated. Sheppard was always like a dog with a bone. If McKay was to get any peace tonight it would require a more direct approach.

The door slid open at Rodney's thought to reveal Sheppard standing outside, looking expectant, "Hey Rodney… We need to talk."

"No, I don't", Rodney countered, "What I need is to be left alone. It's late Colonel."

"Alright," Sheppard drawled sarcastically, "Then –I- need to talk. You can just listen. It won't take long. And it's not even 2100 hours."

Oh for the love of all that is… why wouldn't he just go away?

"Can I come in?" Sheppard grinned that lop-sided fly-boy grin that he always seemed to think would get him his way.

Well not this time. Rodney folded his arms stubbornly and looked John straight in the puppy-dog eyes, "No."

Rodney tried not to care that Sheppard looked hurt, and then angry at this. It wasn't as though the other man had backed Rodney up in the de-briefing. Serves him right.

"Fine!" Sheppard ground out, "Then I'll talk out here!" Sheppard seemed to kick himself internally and take a moment to calm before continuing. "Beckett asked me to talk to you about what happened earlier."

Rodney immediately stiffened. Couldn't they even wait until morning? Apparently now that he'd failed it was open season on McKay's. Well… Caldwell had said that everyone had a sense of how important this was for earth. Apparently everyone included John Sheppard.

John continued clumsily when Rodney didn't close the door in his face, "Look, Rodney. You were acting crazy. You know you can trust Carson. You always have before. Nothing has changed. You're just not thinking straight. Just go talk to him. Hear him out."

Trust Carson. Rodney was surprised to find himself entertaining the thought. He must be over-stressed. Sure, he would have liked to believe that men like Carson Beckett and John Sheppard would never allow anything like Phoenix to happen if they knew what it did, let alone take part in it. But he'd known them how long? A year and half? No-one could ever really know what another person would do in a given situation. People were unpredictable. And Rodney was a terrible judge of character. It would be stupid to risk telling them anything. A billion unpredictable factors could influence what they chose to do with that information. No doubt they'd be convinced they were working for the greater good. People always were. Everyone whose mind he'd ever seen had been perfectly convinced they were taking the best possible course of action given their situation and choices. Look what that had led to. He remembered Caldwell's question. Could he really be so selfish? He supposed that's what John and Carson thought of him now. He hated to let them down but…

"Rodney. Stop pushing everyone away." Sheppard leaned forward earnestly. The fact he hadn't been interrupted yet was not only a small miracle, it also indicated that Rodney was for once actually listening. "You're not alone. I'm your friend. Carson is your friend. It's not like you can avoid him forever anyway. The city is only so big."

Rodney expressionlessly regarded Col. John Sheppard, "Are you finished, Colonel?" The question was stiff and formal.

After everything he'd said, and believing he'd been heard, the detachment in Rodney's voice took John by surprise. Before he could form an answer the door to Rodney's room slid shut and he was left standing in the hall alone.

Alone in his room again, Rodney paced a small line. Sheppard had gotten under his skin, and ruffled him, as always. But it was more than usual this time. He didn't know what he was feeling. He wanted to run shouting to Sheppard and Carson to stay the hell away from anything to do with Phoenix… but anything he said could send the military on the path to recreating the project. It was incredibly unfair.

Looking back at the door he suddenly felt very alone. What foolishness! Of course he was alone. And what was wrong with being alone with the most brilliant mind in two galaxies? He turned towards his wall of accomplishments. They always centred him at times like this. Most would find the display egotistical. Cadman had.

Well, there was no one else to take pride in it, so why shouldn't he? They reminded him of what he could rely on. Himself. He'd pushed himself when there was no-one else to. He'd taken better care of himself than anyone else could have or cared to. He'd appreciated his own intelligence for what it was, his own. He'd payed his own way, through grants and scholarships and some income here and there from the CIA and FBI. He just couldn't seem to stay out from under their radar. That was what had eventually eased him into his work in the Pentagon and Area 51. Only the Star-Gate could have lured him to the Military. Strangely, he didn't regret it.

His mind drifted back to Collins and his earlier sense of failure. He knew he could figure it out. It should have worked. If no one else believed him, fine. He'd believe in himself. Just like always. Collins would not be another pointless death in the Pegasus Galaxy.

McKay exited his room and strode to his lab with determination.

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Mr Woolsey walked quickly down the corridors of Atlantis. Now that the Arcturus Experiment had failed and Caldwell had no reasons left to make certain that McKay was not disturbed…Woolsey didn't intend to waste any more time. His strides slowed and stopped in front of McKay's private lab and he took a moment to prepare himself before braving entry.

"Dr McKay?" He stepped cautiously inside when there was no answer. McKay was hunched over a lap top, facing away from the door. "Dr McKay? I was hoping I'd find you here…" Woolsey took a moment to regard the man ignoring him. This wasn't going well. He doubted this would be half as difficult if it weren't for the militaries damn obsession with weapons. Perhaps that would be a more effective angle to approach him from, "I'm sorry the Arcturus project didn't work out."

"Yes, well I'm a bit busy trying to figure out why. So if you wouldn't mind leaving…" the scientist didn't look up as he spoke.

If this was going to be a battle of wills, Woolsey intended to win, "I can't do that."

Now McKay finally turned around, "Do I have to call some marines to make you leave? I don't have to talk to you. Get out!"

Woolsey walked further into the room, his shoulders squared, "You may be able to have me dragged away, but Col Caldwell won't back down so easily and he out-ranks all the marines here. Do you really think you'll be able to find another weapon to tempt him away?"

The scientists face reddened and he yelled, "Get OUT!"

"NO!" Woolsey could here his own vehemence, his voice cracked and he let it. He needed McKay to understand how he felt about this, and to trust his intentions. "Just hear me out! And then I'll leave if you still want me to. I'm going to be completely honest with you. I don't give a rats ass about the militaries desire to develop a weapon. That's not what I'm here for. I've cooperated with that because it got me here with the resources I needed. Now, here's why I'M here. Something terrible was done to you. It was done to you against your will. I want the people who did that to be punished and I need to stop them from doing it to someone else. Just give me something to help predict their next move. Help me find them and stop them this time."

The room fell silent and Woolsey held his breath while he waited for McKay's next move. Woolsey watched while a gambit of emotions ran through the other mans eyes and he warred within. Finally, McKay spoke, "I'm only going to say this once. They'll be looking for smart people. Not just a little smart. We're talking prodigies in multiple subjects. They'll need to narrow those down to the best. Any age will do but children are easier to locate, acquire, and control. The testing might take place through scholarship application, the public school system, or these days even the internet." He grabbed a sheet of paper and jotted down a short list before handing it to Woolsey, without looking him in the eye.

Woolsey looked at it in confusion, "What's this?"

"It's a short list of illegal and difficult to acquire substances that they will need to get on the Black Market, if they haven't already. It's not enough for you to recreate the project. I won't give you that. Now, get out."

Woolsey nodded respectfully and backed towards the door, "Thank you."

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	12. Priorities

Ch 11

-Earth -

President Hayes had known Michael Kerry since they were kids. Michael was one of the most trusted advisors on his cabinet. He was a good and trust-worthy man. He'd always trusted his intentions and advice completely, until now.

The complete transformation in the man sitting with him in his private study was shocking. He suddenly felt like he didn't know the man any more. No, not suddenly. It had been coming to this gradually. He just hadn't wanted to see it. He still didn't want to see it, or hear it. Could fear change a man so completely?

"Mr. President, Henry, there is more at stake here than the life or freedoms of one man, one scientist. No matter how well he's served the cabinet in the past… and he hardly did it with a smile… but that aside there's a bigger picture here. In war there are casualties. The fate of the world could be at stake here. Heck, the universe!" His old friend leant forward in the plush chair, speaking earnestly.

The President calmly set down his drink and considered the other man before answering, "It's inhumane. It's illegal. It's wrong. Michael, I can't believe you're even suggesting it."

"Yes!" The other man spat vehemently and stood, "Yes I'm suggesting it! Someone has to. How can the law even apply to a top secret program like the Stargate? Do you think hostile aliens care about our laws? This is bigger than Geneva! It's bigger than the United Nations. It's bigger than Earth!"

"No! Michael, I've listened to enough of this. I agreed with you that we should at least look into the feasibility. Now you're going to have to accept that it isn't feasible. Humane issues aside, and make no mistake those are the most important issues here, we are not going to sacrifice Earths greatest minds to a process that may or may not give them super-human powers. Based on what SG-1 has learned so far, I won't even take volunteers! Let alone force someone!" All of his other advisors had been quick to agree with this stance. Still Michael had insisted on reviewing the information privately and trying to change his mind.

"It wouldn't be a sacrifice if they were guaranteed to survive. We already have one that did survive. We can try it on him and use the data to…"

"Stop right there," Hayes glowered darkly. He'd heard enough.

"Mr. President."

"No. What has happened to you? You were always the pragmatist, a balance to my idealist… but this is… This is not you speaking any more. It's fear. It's fear and it's stress."

"Henry…"

"Go. Now. Take a long vacation Michael. Don't come back to this office until you understand what is so very wrong with the advice you've offered me today."

For a moment, Michael glowered back at the President before turning and storming out of the office. He was aware of the night guards and staff watching him as he stormed by them, but he didn't care. He headed straight for his car. Michael paused to calm down before starting his car.

The fool wouldn't listen. He'd been so sure he'd been careful to ease the human leader into the idea of using McKay. Humans and their petty ideals would be the downfall of the galaxy, were they left to their own devices. They were too primitive, too young, to understand that survival is the ultimate ideal, at all costs.

The plan to leak the information that the Trust was seeking McKay so that the humans would launch their own investigation had been ingenious. His role had been to convince them to restart the research on their own.

No matter. It only means that the Trust will need to take a more direct hand in the research, rather than allowing the human government to do the work for them. Plans would be set in motion. Caldwell would have to be contacted once he returned to Earth. Then, in a matter of perhaps a month and a half, McKay would be theirs.

Humanity would once again bow to the Goa'uld once they saw the power of their god's defeating the Prior's. He intended to be among the first to take one of these specially prepared, super-human hosts.

He took a moment to look in his rear mirror and allowed his eyes to glow; a brief reminder of his superiority, before driving away from the White-House.

President Hayes stood at a window and watched his friend drive away. He felt sorrow, but no regret. Shaking his head, he turned back into the study and went to the phone, "Get me General Landry."

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Bleary eyed and cradling coffee mugs, Sg-1 once again sat around the conference table in Cheyenne Mountain. Mitchell couldn't help but feel it was way too early for a debriefing. Even Dr. Lam was on her second cup of coffee and holding it like it was the elixir of life.

"Where's General O'Neill?" Mitchell asked when it looked like General Landry was getting ready to begin.

General Landry looked unsurprised at the question, but mildly bemused at the answer, "He asked to be sent a memo when we've finished. He said it was 'General's Perogative.'"

Sam leaned over and whispered further explanation to Mitchell, "He's not a morning person."

Landry rolled his eyes, "Shall we get started then? Dr. Lam, if you would?"

Dr. Lam took a moment to glare at her father, General Landry, for being the one to call the meeting, before rising to begin. "Based on what Dr. Jackson and Col. Carter have learned at the prison I am now working from the assumption that the experiment was a success and that Dr McKay, at least at one point, displayed Prior-like abilities. It's still impossible for me to say whether there are any residual effects. But I would be surprised if there wasn't. Despite what you may have seen in cartoons, the human mind is not like a light-bulb that can be switched on and off."

Sam seemed more than a little reluctant to believe that, "What does Dr. Beckett think?"

The mens eye-brows all lift at the somewhat unsubtle request for a second opinion. Though, to be fair, there ought to have been some kind-of update from Atlantis' medical staff by now.

Dr. Lam took a breath before answering politely but with clear annoyance, "Dr. Beckett has declined our request for assistance. He believes it would be a conflict of interests and wishes to maintain an atmosphere of Doctor/Patient confidentiality in this matter."

"That is admirable," Teal'c would be the only man in the room brave enough to praise Doctor Beckett's decision in the face of Dr. Lam's obvious annoyance at the situation.

Daniel scrunched his brows thoughtfully, "Maybe. But could there be more to it? Could it also be that he doesn't like the idea that whatever he gives us could potentially be used in our own weapon research? And by our own I mean American. And he's Scottish. I mean, that's partly what we're investigating, isn't it? The viability of our own program?" It was easy to tell from his tone that Daniel didn't quite agree with the idea either.

Dr. Lam frowned thoughtfully at this, "That is probably a factor, yes."

"Actually," Mitchell spoke up, "Now that I've learned a bit more about it, that doesn't quite sit right with me either."

Landry felt that now was a good time to contribute his update from the President, "Then you'll be relieved to learn, the consensus in the White House is that pursuit of this experimentation for the purposes of developing our own human weapons is not viable, and will never be viable. The President is of the view that it would be immoral, inhumane, and illegal. However, the Trust has no such qualms."

The mood in the room seemed to lighten at the news. Sg-1 was ready to press on with a bit more enthusiasm.

The meeting was quickly refocused with Teal'c's next question, "Has the Trust not been seeking out Dr. McKay?"

"That's what started all this." Mitchell nodded and turned to Landry, "But why. Why now? Surely if they could have done this before, they would have by now. Why him again? Wouldn't it be easier to use someone that hasn't been working in some of the world's most secure government facilities for the past, I don't even know how many years?"

It was Dr. Lam who answered, "Technology and medicine has advanced a great deal; particularly since we began bringing new technology back through the Star-gate. If the Trust were able to examine the results of the Phoenix experiment on a successful patient I have no doubt they would be able to find a way to reproduce the effects, possibly even without the aid of drugs. It would simply be a matter of identifying the correct area's of the brain and artificially stimulating them.

"Why start from scratch when they can get a-hold of a prototype?" Sam added grimly.

Daniel sighed, "Particularly considering the death-rate for the unsuccessful test-subjects… and that the test subjects would basically be earth's most potentially brilliant minds.

"Indeed." Teal'c agreed stoically, "It would be foolish to waste such a resource unnecessarily."

Mitchell took a moment to consider that while staring into his coffee. "That's really disturbing."

Sam couldn't help but smile at how easily Mitchell summed it up for all of them, "Fortunately, as long as he's in another Galaxy the Trust has no way of getting to him. They don't even know where he is."

It was then that Dr. Lam cleared her throat to regain their attention, "It would still be worth-while to, for lack of a better term, to study Dr. McKay."

SG-1 looked more than a little surprise at the apparently insensitive statement.

Landry looked surprised as well, but before anyone could jump to conclusions he asked, "Why?"

Dr. Lam seemed well aware of their reactions and frowned at it. What is it with people assuming the worst of Doctors? "Well, for one there would be concerns about his long-term health which must be explored and considered. But those concerns aside, understanding exactly how the experiment worked in him could provide key insights into what the Prior's are, and how to stop them, or even cure them. I'd like to suggest it to Dr. Beckett."

Landry nodded his understanding, "You may. It seems Dr. McKay has become more co-operative."

"He has?" Those who had met Dr McKay had to smirk at the surprise in Sam's voice. He could be pretty disagreeable. "I thought he wasn't being questioned until after the research on Doranda was complete."

"Yes. The Arcturus experiment failed." Landry supplied in explanation.

"How?" She sounded doubtful. Surely it was far too early in the research for it to become completely un-pursuable.

"From what I understand it went out of control and a member of the science team was killed." He knew this was a rabbit-trail, but Landry tried to be understanding of the inquisitive nature of his top minds.

Sam kept looking at him for further explanation, "And then what…?"

Landry looked at her a moment, "That's it."

She looked stunned, "He gave up that easily!" Instantly she felt all eyes on the room staring at her, "I mean, yes, it's a tragedy… but science can be dangerous. Developing a new power-source is about as dangerous as it gets. Harry K. Daglian died of radiation poisoning when working on the Manhattan Project… Even when he was dieing he didn't give up. And the research didn't end after him."

Catching a bit of her passion, Mitchell couldn't help but add, "And when scientists were learning about electricity didn't they get zapped through kite's on strings?" All eyes turned on him as though he'd just suggested the earth was flat, "You know… the lightning would hit the kite and travel down the string and the scientist was… never mind."

Landry seemed to feel it was time to get back on track at this point, "Be that as it may, Atlantis has a limited supply of personnel. The decision was Dr. Weir's and I can certainly understand why she made it. Either way, with the end of the experiment Col. Caldwell has resumed his and Mr Woolsey's end of the investigation. Woolsey was able to get some information from Dr. McKay which I think you may find helpful."

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"It makes sense, yes, at first glance! At first glance your calculations seem sound but you did them in one night, while tired. And even if these calculations are theoretically sound why would the Ancients not have thought of this too. It may be it does not work any way and we just need more time to see why. You must not rush this. We will take more time to explore the possibilities before trying again." Radek could hear his accent thickening but was unable to stop it amidst his growing frustration.

"Don't be ridiculous Radek! You know full well that Arcturus has progressed well beyond the point where working on computer models is going to help. It needs to be tested properly. The only way we'll know if it works, and it WILL work, is by trial and error." Rodney's tone was short and clipped, his shoulders squared.

Radek could almost see the invisible wall that was suddenly up between him and his colleague, thicker than ever before. This was not McKay's normal enthusiasm or stubbornness. This was something else. Radek had no idea what it was that was driving McKay, but it felt off.

"I think you are not thinking clearly. I think you must slow down and take a step back before someone else gets hurt." Radek winced. That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

For a moment, the wall failed and the Radek could clearly see the pain and guilt of Collin's loss. "Rodney, I am not…"

"Out of my way, Radek. Clearly this work is beyond your capabilities or understanding." Rodney snatched his lap-top back out of Radek's hands and stormed away while Radek was still searching for the words to take back what he had unintentionally said.

Rodney could think of only one other person Elizabeth was likely to listen to, Sheppard. So he headed in the direction of the Colonel's room.

"Posrat", Radek cursed at himself and the situation. For a moment he considered going after McKay, but then remembered the look in his friend's eyes and knew that McKay would not listen unless he had more than a bad feeling to show him. Radek checked his watch. He had until morning to find some evidence that would give McKay a reason to slow down.

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Goa'uld Caldwell lounged in the Command throne of the Daedalus, while fuming inwardly at the outrage of his temporary banishment from Atlantis. Dr. Weir had thought his presence was making McKay uncomfortable, and that they might have more success if he and Mr. Woolsey left. The taste of failure was bitter, and it wasn't something he was willing to accept just yet.

"Colonel Caldwell," Hermiod's voice grated on the Goa'uld's nerves, "We are now approaching Doranda."

"Good. Keep me posted," Goa'uld Caldwell barely managed to keep the annoyance from his tone, and sound casual. It was just as well that Weir had given him a reason to leave Atlantis. It freed him to at least supervise the well-being of two potentially valuably Goa'uld resources – Arcturus, and Dr. McKay.

"Colonel Caldwell." The Asgard spoke again, "I am reading what I believe to be a dangerous spike in power levels, originating at the location of the ancient lab."

Goa'uld Caldwell turned and looked at the Asgard in surprise. Surely his instincts and timing couldn't be that accurate. "Are you sure?"

Hermiod looked at him blandly and blinked an expression that resembled annoyance, "Yes. I am certain…" The Asgard looked backed at the controls, "Power levels continue to rise… I am detecting weapons fire."

Caldwell turned back to the main screen in time to see large balls of light flying from the planet, "Evasive maneuvers!"

"Colonel Sheppard's and Dr. McKay's jumper is now fleeing from the surface," Hermiod announced in that same, too calm, Asgard voice.

Goa'uld Caldwell leaned forward in his command throne and continued to bark orders, "Prepare to provide cover fire. Open a channel to the jumper."

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All Atlantis' personnel gave Dr. McKay a wide berth as he stormed down the halls towards his quarters. If he went to the labs he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from doing the one thing Elizabeth had ordered him not to do; work on Arcturus. He was sure the whole galaxy had heard her reaction when he'd proposed building a smaller version of Arcturus on another planet, to continue the research. He had even less support now from everyone than he did after the first failure, his first failure. He still couldn't see why it had happenned. He couldn't see what had gone wrong, and it stung. He itched to learn why, any way he could.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he entered his quarters and flopped face first onto his bed. There were so many discoveries, so many things yet to be understood in Atlantis, in the ancient data-base. Why couldn't he just shift his focus to one of the many ancient devices they had yet to find the purpose of?

Not that it would matter even if he could. He doubted he'd have time to himself for long. With Arcturus gone for good now, there was nothing to distract Caldwell and Woolsey from grilling him, and the medical staff… Beckett… from poking and prodding and… no need to dwell further on that. He could run… but where? Where do you go when you're already in a whole other galaxy?

The desire to distract them wasn't what had been driving him. It was a bonus. But a small one compared to the potential benefits to humanity such a power-source could have offered. That was a bigger bonus.

Everyone else was afraid. They were too afraid of what they couldn't possibly understand. Even Zelenka. McKay was afraid too. But his fear drove him towards it. He was sure he could understand Arcturus, he had too. But he was being held back.

McKay let out a deep sigh as he drifted to a fitful sleep, trying and failing to think of anything but Arcturus.

_The darkness was overwhelmingly thick. So thick it was tangable, suffocating. Though the gas had long since cleared the chamber the boy still struggled to breathe in short, quick gasps. His head throbbed painfully from the strain of implanting a suggestion in so many minds at once. The pain threatened to break his control. This was bad. _

_The blackness engulfed. How long had it been? So quiet… only the sounds of his own breathing echoed, filled the silence and became nothingness… His ears strained desperately for any other sound, like drowning lungs grasping for air. Starved eyes begged to see anything at all. Focus. Must focus. _

_The drugs coursing through his system beckoned his mind inward. Senses he shouldn't even have reached outward of their own accord – to see, hear, touch. NO! Focus! _

_He struggled to stay alert, to hear only his own breathing. But it drew, pulled. He needed to get out. He should focus on the door – move the lock with his mind. But he couldn't. The throbbing headache distracted, took his control._

With _no outward goal, his mind drifted inward. Blood pumped loudly through organs. Cells formed organs. Tiny packages housing genes… Not tiny. Huge compared to the molecules that formed them. Particles of energy floating, interacting, pulling repelling, like planetary bodies in a vast micro-verse. The space between – so vast. Empty. Not empty. Something there, but not. Too far too see… Not quite in this dimension. He was aware of its existence without seeing it, and understood that to see it would bring it here. He struggled to draw his mind away, to 'look' away. He knew without seeing that this must be what the others had seen, before they burned. The very act of looking had destroyed them. His mind struggled to look further and he fought against it… but he was so tired. He had no control left…_

_Then there was sound… and light, "There's someone inside this one._

_"What? Let me see… Get him out of there…. Gently."_

_"It's a kid."_

_"What the hell was going on here?"_

_"Sir! It's the missing agent. The kid that was helping with all those cases."_

_"The one that built the atom bomb for school?"_

_"What the hell did they do to him?"_

_Gentle hands pried open his eyes, it was so bright, "He's been drugged." His eyes drifted closed again._

_"What are you all standing around staring for? Someone call an ambulance!"_

Dr.McKay opened his eyes and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Unwanted memories, combining with his sense of failure, stung sharply.

Collin's wasn't the only death that would have been brought meaning if McKay had been able to be the one to understand the power of Arcturus, the beyond sub-dimensional energy.

What universal irony, that the opportunity to finally understand, to finally grasp that elusive energy, came and slipped through his fingers at exactly the same time that Phoenix itself came out of his past to haunt him. It was so unfair. Synchronicity sucked. He didn't want to think about it… but he couldn't stop himself anymore.

The memories wouldn't be pushed away…

_As he was loaded into the ambulance, snippets of the intentions and emotions of those surrounding him drifted in. Hospital. Tests… Blood tests. No! No more! He didn't want anymore tests. He struggled to sit up but found he was strapped down._

_"He's waking up." He stopped struggling. "What's his name?" It was a new voice._

_"Rodney." One of the voices from earlier said._

_"Rodney? Can you hear me? I need you to try and respond."… "Can you tell us if it hurts anywhere?"_

_Rodney ignored it and focussed on the one from earlier. What were his intentions? The effort made him wince and cry out in pain as searing daggers seemed to shoot through his brain. The man was planning ahead. He caught snippets of safe-houses… families. No thank you! Been there done that. His own family had been a nightmare. He shuddered to think what strangers would be like. He was better off on his own._

So he had waited and pretended to be unconscious until they reached the hospital… then he slipped away before they could make him go through any tests.

Dr. McKay forced himself to turn away from the ceiling, from the invasive memories, to his wall of successes. He'd done it all himself. He'd done without any unwanted, un-needed, support or approval from anyone. His expression of muted sorrow shifted to confusion as he noticed something out of place.

There was a package on his dresser. He stood and walked to the dresser. There was a card attached.

'Hey Handyman. Mom's been holding onto this for you for a long time. When I told her I was going to try to hook up with you during the mission I couldn't tell her about she insisted I bring it. Sorry I didn't get a chance to give it to you in person, but I had to report to the Daedalus, and you're pretty elusive when you wanna be. Anyway, it's from everyone.'

It was puzzling to say the least; almost as puzzling as the fact that his old would-be bully continued to insist on pursuing his company. It wasn't as though McKay had anything useful to offer him now. Not like before.

He smirked grimly at the memory of how they'd met. He had stayed gratuitously late after school to finish up some research, again. It was an excellent way to get some work done undisturbed. He'd also learned from a young age that it was an even better way to avoid the after-school bullies. They all had far too short attention spans to hang around the school long enough to catch him. Or so he had thought…

_"Hey, dweeb!" a much larger boy was leaning against Rodney's locker, waiting for him. Bobby Freeman. He was the Alpha Bully. As in the bully the other bullies all listened too. "You shouldn't work so late, freak, it gives people the impression you're avoiding them._

_The smaller boys eyes widened, but fear quickly turned to a sarcastic scowl, "Dweeb? Oh very original. It took you how long to come up with that while waiting for me here?"_

_Rodney considered his options. Behind him was the class room. Ahead was the exit. But between him and the exit was the older, much larger, must faster, much stronger boy. He could try calling for help… but the teachers lounge was on the other side of the school. And even if they heard him, it would just make him a vengeance target for every other bully in the whole school. Sealing his decision, a couple of Bobby's friends appeared at the end of the hall. _

_Bobby smiled triumphantly and made a sweeping arm gesture towards one of the open lockers, while he dangled a key in his free hand._

_Grudgingly, Rodney rolled his eyes and walked towards the locker. He was an easy fit. "Don't you have anything better to do than hang around and torment me? Like, I dunno, fry your brain in front of the television?" The question came out more sulky than he intended._

_Which seemed to amuse the larger boy. Maybe that's why he took the time to casually answer before closing the door, "It's broken."_

_"So… if I fixed it would you leave me alone?" The door opened again._

_"Get serious, geek." The older boy scowled now, but also looked curious._

_"I am serious." Rodney scowled back. "I can fix anything."_

_The older boy considered him a long time, "Ok. You fix the T.V, I'll make sure you get left alone by everyone."_

_Rodney did fix the T.V, and in exchange the bullies layed off. If ever he was walking alone in a dark alley and found himself surrounded by a gang of young thugs, one of them would inevitably pipe up and say, "Hey, that's Freeman's geek. We better steer clear."_

_No sooner had he fixed the television though, than the freezer broke down._

_"Don't worry Mom," Freeman had said to his Mother when she couldn't afford a repair-man, "Rod can fix it! Can't you?"_

_Rodney agreed to fix it in exchange for a couple of home-cooked meals. His own mother never bothered. It was always take-away or tv dinners. _

_More stuff broke down. Rodney fixed it. It became someplace other than home where he could be. Especially on the weekends. His parents never asked or cared where he was going, or noticed when he was out all night. _

It was a positive symbiotic relationship. Nothing more.

McKay forced his mind back to the present, and the puzzle at hand; the brown box. It was moderately sized, and wrapped in brown parcel paper. He unwrapped it and opened it… to reveal another box. But the box within was decorated with a white paper coated in cartoon owls wearing academic caps. His mouth quirked at the silliness.

Gingerly he peeled the tape from the sides and unfolded the paper… then opened the box that had been sealed within. He nearly dropped it with shock, but barely managed to get a handle on it before setting the open box back down on the table. He took out a large plush owl, wearing an academic hat, like those on the wrapping paper. It held numbers quoting the year 1981. It was the year of his High School graduation… and when the nightmare had begun.

Underneath the owl was a picture frame. It was a picture of the old apartment building with all the tenants standing in front and waving. He lifted it carefully… and found a large card underneath.

Setting the frame on his dresser he reached into the box for the card, and opened it. Everyone had signed it. More than signed it, there were dozens of little notes. Thank-you's for his work… Positive observations about his character… invitations to return anytime…

McKay stubbornly swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

Before he'd learned to walk, he'd learned that crying was pointless. His parents would just ignore it, or worse, turn up their noses in disgust.

He could deny the tears… but there was something deeper that he couldn't deny. He'd been wrong. He hadn't been half as alone as he'd thought. That profound realization gave way to another. He did need his colleagues, the people here on Atlantis. He needed the working relationships he'd probably completely destroyed. Maybe he even needed more but he wasn't ready to consider that yet. He did know that rejecting their professional support when the advice had been unwanted had been a mistake. He needed them to trust his abilities, to believe in him. He didn't want to be alone here. He just hoped it wasn't too late to fix his mistakes. Would they accept his apology?

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	13. Redemption

Ch 12

O'Neill lowered his night-vision binoculars and stretched his neck and shoulders. They snapped uncomfortably. He hated stake-outs, almost as much as he hated early-morning meetings. He checked his watch. SG-1 would already be in their meeting with Landry by now. He hated having to keep his location from them, but if they knew he was out working on locating the Trust's operation they'd want to join in. If the Trust was looking for smart people, then O'Neill would just as soon make certain that Sam and Daniel stayed safe under Cheyenne Mountain for now.

Without the binoculars, O'Neill could still easily make out the silhouette of the Rodney McKay look-alike stretching in front of the window of Rodney McKay's place of residence. The poor bastard had to adopt McKay's sleeping habits as part of the assignment; meaning that right around now he'd be ordering pizza. Shortly after which he'd be falling asleep at the crack of dawn... followed by barely three hours of sleep before he'd be up at a lap-top.

"Here sir, I believe it's my turn." He turned to the pretty sergeant who was assigned as McKay's neighbour during the few times when he was actually in town and at his place of residence.

"So it is," He handed over the binoculars and went to take a seat with the retired grey-haired, pot-bellied colonel that lived across the street and had apparently invited himself to their stake-out. Even in a Hawaiian shirt, the man's demeanour was stiff and formal, "So… McKay's been living over there since he was a kid… and he's never noticed anything odd about his neighbour's… or the pizza delivery service…or anything like that…?"

The colonel looked up, "What would he have noticed about the Pizza delivery service?"

"How about that it's always on time and the pizza is always hot?" If that wasn't a dead give-away that it wasn't a real pizza service, O'Neill didn't know what was.

The answer was just a shrug. "Maybe he noticed. Maybe he didn't. It's hard to tell with him. The only one of us he ever talks to is Sally." He gestured over to the woman now looking out the window with binoculars, "And then it's only to ask her to take care of his cat."

O'Neill considered that a moment, "What DO you do with his cat?"

The woman glanced over her shoulder, "I have a sister with kids. I just tell them it's mine and that I'm going away for a bit. They look after it until he gets back. All his work has been with the government or military so we get plenty of notice before he's reassigned to the area."

"Right..." O'Neill frowned between the two. "You know… I get that the CIA set this up to keep an eye on him… and I get that the military took it over and continued because they figured he needed it for his safety… what with the sort of projects he was involved in. What confuses me, though, is why you had to go in and set up bugs and cameras. I would have thought those would already be in there."

"We were warned not to." The woman answered over her shoulder.

"And we learned the hard way to take that advice." The gray haired Colonel added, "McKay keeps a home-made EM-pulse generator in his basement. First thing he does when he gets home is set it off. It destroys all the equipment. Expensive equipment…"

"Y,know…" O'Neill began speculatively, "He's a big boy now. Y'think maybe it's time to stop the charade?"

"Not my decision sir," Supplied the grey haired Colonel, "Beside's, that would require someone telling him there was a charade in the first place and suggesting that he move. This whole street is retirement and vacation homes for CIA, FBI, and undercover military. Everyone here is being watched over. He ain't the only one Sally keeps an eye out for when she's here. Beside's, he's here so little and seemed satisfied so I guess there didn't seem to be much point to changing things now."

"Right…" O'Neill grimaced, "What was your name again?" He addressed the 'retired' man who'd invited himself to their stake-out.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," The old man dead-panned.

For not the first time in the past few nights, O'Neill thought that this was a weird neighbourhood. He turned away from the nameless man and moved to a front window. He could see a glint of binocular lenses in the houses on either side of the one across the street. So much for retired. Seemed the neighbours could tell something was up and were watching out for their fake McKay. McKay HAD to have noticed something was odd about this place.

Suddenly, a bright light pierced the night. "Dammit," O'Neill swore.

"We have activity. There was a bright light inside the house." The female sergeant reported urgently.

O'Neill hadn't counted on the Trust having a ship, or beaming technology. "Do we still have a signal."

The greyed Colonel dashed over to a monitor and some equipment, "Accessing satellite, boosting power… I'm increasing range… We have him in orbit. Wait… he's moved again… Sonora, Mexico."

Crap, that disguise wasn't meant to fool them long term. They'd be lucky if their man was alive by the time they reached him now. "Ok, get us a helicopter and have our back-up meet us there. We're following now."

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The command tower was Rodney's first stop. He ignored the stares of the personnel he passed and the technicians working in the control room as he nervously approached Dr. Weir's office. When he saw that she wasn't there he frowned and sighed in disappointment. That was not the most encouraging start to his monumentally heroic mission to seek forgiveness.

He turned and leaned against the railing of the balcony overlooking the gate. His mood plummeted further as he was reminded of yet another of his failures; namely Kavanagh.

Kavanagh had a brilliant mind and should have been a great resource to Atlantis. That his fellow scientist had been driven to such competitive foolishness was the result of nothing more than poor people management skills on Rodney's part. He never should have let the situation degenerate so far.

As for the cruel prank – it was unwise and unfair… but the factors that had prolonged the situation and made Rodney unable to call for help were things Kavanagh couldn't have predicted. No more than Rodney could predict the random particles in Arcturus. Rodney had made unwise decisions that, in the end, had risked lives. How could he expect a second chance if he couldn't give one?

But damn… that tank had been awful…

"Rodney? Are you alright?" he turned to find Cadman standing next to him with a look of concern.

Rodney quickly released a death-grip he hadn't noticed he had on the railing and pushed the memories of the tank away, "Yes, fine. Perfect. Why wouldn't I be?"

Cadman just frowned with sarcastic scepticism, "Ya, right."

Rodney answered the look with a glower before turning towards the Canadian Technician manning the gate controls, whom he was annoyed to find was also staring at him with concern. "I said I'm fine. Stop looking at me like that and dial the Alpha site."

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It was mid-day on the planet that housed the Alpha-site. The sun hung high in the air and summer flowers grew tall in the field surrounding the gate.

McKay found Kavanagh sitting in a shelter, with his lap-top hooked up to a portable generator. The irritating man did his best to ignore McKay while Rodney, equally irritating, read over Kavanagh's shoulder. After-all, who doesn't find having someone read over their shoulder irritating? Eventually Kavanagh stopped typing, rolled his eyes, and just handed the lap-top over to McKay.

McKay accepted it wordlessly and scrolled down through the information, "Nice."

"What? No Criticism? No bragging about how much better you'd do?" Kavanagh griped as he snatched the lap-top back.

"Not this time. There's nothing to criticize. It's good work." For a moment McKay considered admitting that he would, actually, have done better, but then he thought better of it.

The change in behaviour was puzzling to Kavanagh and he set the lap-top aside.

Gratified to have his little lost minions full attention, Rodney continued, "I don't make it easy to get along with me, and I was perhaps harder on you than on most…."

This elicited a smug look from Kavanagh, "Yes. You were."

"And…" Rodney swallowed his annoyance at the other mans attitude, "You didn't know that the tanks were radio-proof. No one did."

The smug look disappeared and Kavanagh shifted uncomfortably, "That's right I didn't know. NOT that I'm admitting to anything."

"Of course not." Rodney allowed, "And, not that I'm accusing you of anything, but you also couldn't possibly begin to imagine how I feel in small spaces."

At that last comment, Kavanagh looked away and failed to cover a guilty look. Apparently, some time to think had done him good after-all.

"So," Rodney continued, "Other than those two points, I guess it's fair to say I had it coming."

The fish-like gape as Kavanagh's eyes bulged out almost made McKay laugh, "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Has something terrible happened on Atlantis? Oh my God… Are they all dead?"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Rodney barked. What is with all these people asking if he's alright tonight? "What do you mean are they all dead? No! They're fine! I'm fine! I'm trying to mend some bridges here. Is that so complicated to understand? Is that so unusual?"

"From you? Yes!" Kavanagh stood and barked back, and the two faced each-other down like two rams locking horns.

"Look – it was a stupid prank. One that went really wrong. I wouldn't have much of a science team left if I banished everyone who played a stupid prank!" Scientists were terrible practical jokers… especially Radek.

"You also wouldn't have much of a science team if you HELD BACK everyone who didn't completely agree with you all the time!" Kavanagh growled.

McKay growled back, "Is that what you think? When have you ever seen Zelenka completely agree with me all the time? Ever? I mean really EVER! You felt like I was trying to hold you back? Fine, I'll admit I was but not for the reasons you thought. It's not about competition, Kavanagh. It's about CAPABILITY."

Kavanagh stiffened and reddened, "I am just as capable as anyone else on Atlantis!"

"No, you're not!" Rodney countered, "You are a brilliant theorist and a brilliant analyst. When it comes to working around ideas you're one of the best we've got. But when it comes to switching gears into the practical you are woefully, and I mean woefully inadequate. It's like you're working half theory half practical and consequently doing a half-assed job at both."

Kavanagh clenched one fist while pointing a finger angrily at McKay, "Now wait a minute. You…"

"No, hear me out." Rodney interrupted unapologetically, "I respect that you want to get involved in more of the practical hands on things. But you've got to understand that there is a learning curb. All the others have been through it too. Some are a bit better with their hands and their heads, some it's the other way around. So they've got to work at applying both at once in tense situations."

The grinding of Kavanagh's teeth is almost audible as he grudgingly listens.

If McKay noticed, he didn't let on, "I want you back on Atlantis. So here's the olive branch. I want you to stick with what you're good at for now. The theory. In return I'll work with you on getting your practical up to speed…when I can. I'll even try to be a little nicer about it. But don't even THINK about starting on a project until it's been reviewed and approved by myself or Dr. Zelenka…on second thought…steer clear of Zelenka… I think he's still mad."

Kavanagh lifted his chin smugly. He'd known Atlantis couldn't get by without him. He was, after-all, brilliant even if all too often unrecognized. Whether McKay intended to genuinely give him a chance to prove himself remained to be seen.

Rodney rolled his eyes. He was already regretting this, "Just get your things. I haven't got all night."

Outside the shelter, the various botanists and environmentalists that had gathered to listen to the loud exchange heaved a sigh of relief before darting back to their work benches and shelters. The Alpha-site would be a much more peaceful and pleasant place to work with Kavanagh back in Atlantis.

On the way back towards the gate, McKay paused to watch one of the male botanists separating seeds into long silver sample canisters.

"I thought you said you were in a hurry." Kavanagh sniped.

Rodney ignored him, "You…" He pointed at the botanist and snapped his fingers at himself, trying to come up with the name to the face.

"Hicks." Kavanagh rolled his eyes and supplied with more than a hint of annoyance.

"Right, Hicks," Rodney agreed as though it rung a bell, though it clearly didn't, "Dr. Hicks."

The botanist looked up with a dazed and then worried expression. Dazed, because that was often how Botanists looked, worried because attracting the attention of the head of the science department was rarely a good thing. "Yes sir?"

"You got any of those sample canisters to spare?"

"Uh…" The man blinked in relief and mild confusion, "Yes. We have plenty. I've got a full pack of them right here." He fished out a canister and handed it to his superior.

"Thanks," McKay started to turn away then had an after-thought, "Say, um, you know all those flowers growing around the gate?"

"Yes sir?" Dr. Hicks tried to pay McKay his full attention and ignore the animated gestures of boredom and eye rolling that Kavanagh was carrying on behind him.

"Are those good to take back to Atlantis?" Checking the safety of plants with the botanists was procedure.

The botanist nodded, "They're perfectly safe sir."

"Good." McKay smiled in satisfaction, "Carry on then…"

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"Maybe I should have gone with him." Cadman sucked in her lower lip and gazed down at the gate.

Lorne shrugged and threw her a cavalier smile, "I'm still trying to figure out why you bothered calling me. It's the Alpha site. It's perfectly safe there. That's WHY it's the Alpha site."

Cadman smiled back, "Is that what Colonel Sheppard would say?"

That wiped the smile off of Lorne's face, "Uh… let's not mention this to him." Now it was Lorne who looked worriedly at the gate. Sheppard was as over-protective of McKay as O'Neill had once legendarily been of Jackson. "How long ago did he leave again? Maybe I should go check on him."

"Incoming wormhole," The gate technician reported.

The two officers sighed in relief, then gaped in shock as McKay stepped through with Kavanagh at his side.

"Uh… he discussed that with Dr. Weir first, right?" Lorne asked nervously.

Cadman shook her head as she watched Kavanagh march towards the science section, "Don't think so."

The technician stood to get a better look at McKay. "He has a vase of flowers."

"What? Flowers?" Cadman's gaze shot back to the gate in time to see McKay head up towards Weir's office.

"Nothing says I'm sorry for blowing up three quarters of a solar system like flowers." Lorne snickered. Cadman elbowed her superior, "Ow, hey! I outrank you." The proclamation was ruined by the pout.

"He must be desperate. I mean, Dr Weir was furious. But that is just sad. He can't possibly think that will work." The Canadian technician watched McKay with a look of pity.

"What do you mean desperate? And why not?" Cadman turned her glare to the Canadian.

"Flowers barely work for missed anniversaries. HE blew up an entire Solar System." The technician supplied logically.

"I think it's sweet." Cadman defended.

"Sweet that he blew up a Solar System?" Lorne teased.

"You gotta admit, it's cute." Her arms folded challengingly.

"Sure," Lorne allowed, "In a sad, no way in hell that will work, kinda way."

Rodney once again ignored the stares of his co-workers. Once in Elizabeth's office he carefully arranged the flowers he'd chosen and took a clean sheet of paper from the printer beside Elizabeth's desk. He looked at it and thought a moment before writing,

'Dear Elizabeth. You've always listened to me with interest, enthusiasm and grace. I realize now that I've failed to afford you the same consideration. Disagreeing with you was no excuse for not listening. For that I am sorry. Please forgive me. – Dr. Rodney McKay' … … … … … 'PS; I hope you don't mind, I brought Kavanagh back.'

He considered the note a moment longer before placing it in front of the flowers and ducking back out of the office. It wasn't much. Particularly considering how badly he'd messed up. But it was a start.

Next he'd go find Radek.

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The half dumb-founded, half enraged look on Radek's face was enough to make Rodney flinch and look away. He'd been prepared for Radek to not forgive him, but he was hoping for a bit better response to his 'attempt' at an apology than stunned angry silence.

Then again, when Radek finally spoke Rodney wondered if the silence wasn't perhaps better, "You insult my intelligence. You berate my work. You nearly get yourself killed playing with ancient technology far beyond the reaches of earth's most advanced science. And now you, Dr. Rodney McKay, self proclaimed smartest man in all of Galaxy, are asking for my forgiveness!"

Rodney slumped dejectedly, "That about sums it up, yes… So do you need me grovel?" He'd meant that last bit to be sarcastic, but it came out as a genuine offer instead…

Radek stared at him again, his mouth working, before finally coming out with an answer, "What is wrong with you? You do all of that on a regular basis and never asked forgiveness or apologized before!"

Rodney sighed and slumped further as he searched for words. Had this been one time too many that he'd mistreated Radek?

He was surprised when Radek took hold of him and dragged him over to a stool to sit down. "Rodney. Listen to me now. I knew you were pig-headed and arrogant before Arcturus. I forgave you then. I have already forgiven you now. That you think you now must ask is insulting. I am angry, yes. You will likely anger me much more in future. We will argue many times, yes? I always forgive you."

"Really?" Surprise, relief, and appreciation flash through Rodney's eyes, "I mean… thanks."

Radek narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his friend's odd behaviour, "Thank me by not being so strange all of a sudden. You have worried me enough for one day. And yes, I am still angry about that. I was right and you were wrong. I will rub it in many times. Maybe make plaque and hang it on wall in lab. Remind you of it next time I need you to listen to me so you don't DIE."

"Right. Uh." Rodney slid off the stool cautiously and backed towards the door, "I'm going to go find Colonel Sheppard then… give you some space for now."

"That is good idea."

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Sheppard had still been angry when Rodney came knocking on his door in the middle of the night, claiming to have solved the problem with the ancient weapon. Telling Rodney that he couldn't come in had been pay-back for when Rodney had done the same to him earlier. Then even as the scientist continued to spout out his assurances that he could fix the weapon and his theories that the Ancients had miscalculated, Sheppard had known that McKay was over-confident and running on emotion. His gut told him that it was a mistake to continue with Arcturus.

But when Rodney had looked him in the eye and asked for his trust, John had felt like a hypocrite. So he'd ignored his instincts and everything he knew about this dangerous flaw in his friend's character. And it had nearly gotten them both killed.

What made Sheppard really mad was that he'd let his own judgement be clouded by his desire to gain Rodney's trust, and had almost failed to protect Rodney from himself as a result. He'd thought that maybe if he trusted Rodney, maybe then Rodney would reciprocate. Learn by example. Teams were built on trust. Friendship was built on trust. Maybe Heightmeyer was right.

Rodney can't be forced to trust them. He had to want to. Well hell. It was time for McKay to want it.

John could hardly believe that after they'd both nearly gotten killed, Rodney came along hoping that John hadn't lost faith in his 'abilities' and still trusted his 'abilities'! For all his brains the damned 'genius' didn't get it at all. It was never about what he could do.

That was the last straw. It was time for McKay to feel a little of the worry and the pain he'd been causing everyone else. It was time for a little tough love.

That was what John had in mind when he'd cold-shouldered Rodney's attempt at an apology and left him standing in the hall alone. When he saw the lost, pained look in Rodney's eyes, he knew he'd been right.

He'd just give Rodney a couple of hours to think over what his friends here really meant to him.

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Dr. Weir paused in front of the door to Carson's office, clutching the folder that held the recent updates from earth. Woolsey had brought it to her personally, eager to share that the possible development of a weapon was no longer an issue the Pentagon was considering. She'd thanked him for the information and for the sensitive manner in which he'd handled the entire situation.

She'd then spent the past two hours going over the information in her quarters. The information seemed too sensitive for her windowed office. When she began to read the information inside she knew she'd made the right decision.

Now she was taking the folder to Carson. Among other disturbing things, clear evidence of a possible risk to Rodney's health had been outlined within. As well as a letter from Dr. Lam, specifically to Carson. She paused outside of the door to his office. It was getting late, but he was still there, reading over some files, "Carson? You look busy."

He looked up, bleary eyed, "Nay lass. I'm just reviewing the results of Rodney's post-mission exam."

"Is something wrong?" She frowned.

He shook his head, "Nothing that I can see from this, I wanted to double check for myself."

At this, her brows furrowed in confusion, "From that…? You didn't examine him yourself?"

The physician sighed and looked deeply pained, "He won't let me near him anymore. It's a long story."

"I see." Elizabeth responded carefully, undecided if she should ask for details.

"What's that ye have there?" Carson nodded to the folder in her hands.

"The latest update from earth. Woolsey brought it to my office. There's a message from Dr. Lam for you." She walked in and placed the folder on Carson's desk before taking the comfortable seat across from him.

Carson opened it and looked briefly over the message from Lam. "I can see where she's coming from. A cure for the Prior's is tempting. But I still have to say no. Assuming Rodney ever lets me near him again, I intend to offer him complete discretion."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding and smiled encouragingly for him. Carson looked so depressed and worried, "I'm sure he'll appreciate that. I doubt I'm one of Rodney's favourite people right now either, after the dressing down I gave him."

Carson winced pityingly, "Aye… I heard about that…"

"He's just so stubborn. He's so completely self-reliant, so completely self-absorbed. I can't seem to make him see that's exactly what nearly got him killed. He has to be willing to listen to the concerns of his team." Elizabeth vented.

"Aye, I know exactly what ye mean." Carson agreed. He set aside the letter and glanced between her and the rest of the files as he spoke.

The two jumped in their seats when a cheery voice came from the still open door, "Hey guys! You're looking glum!"

Elizabeth twisted in her seat to see John leaning casually against the door frame, balancing a crate on his shoulder. "And you look surprisingly less angry."

He threw her a grin of boyish innocence.

And she wisely narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "And you're up to something."

"Me?" He grinned more broadly, "Ok… I might have a little something planned. I'm after Carson's culinary skills. You can help too! How are you at making Pizza?"

"Pizza?" Carson and Elizabeth echo.

"Yes. Pizza. And I'm kinda in a hurry. I left Rodney to think some things through, and with his big brain too long could be dangerous. Like three quarters of a solar system dangerous." He quipped casually. Judging from the entirely nonplussed look on both Carson and Elizabeth's faces, they weren't ready to joke about that yet. John winced apologetically, "Too soon?"

"It will never be long enough." Elizabeth frowned seriously.

Carson seemed more forgiving, "Do you mean to say that you've actually gotten him to sit still and listen?"

"Not yet," John admitted but added with absolute confidence, "He will though."

"John," Elizabeth said warningly.

"Are ye mad?" Carson groaned at the same time, "I hardly think he's in the mood to be dogged around the city tonight, not after…"

Sheppard held up his hands in surrender, "Relax. I've got it covered. I'm not chasing him around the city anymore or dragging him anywhere he doesn't want to be. This time he's the one who's going to come to me. No pressure. Scout's honour."

Neither Carson nor Elizabeth could recall John's files mentioning that he had ever been a 'scout'.

Content that Elizabeth would talk John out of whatever fool thing he was planning, Carson flipped to the next page of the document. This one contained more medical updates… something learned by SG-1. The project was called Phoenix, and the reason. Beckett swore loudly and stood to spread the rest of the file across the table so he could scan it all for the medical details including what little they knew of the Prior's, "Oh dear Lord."

"What?" The plotting smile immediately disappeared and was replaced with a look of worry as Col. Sheppard straightened.

"Carson?" Elizabeth stood and leaned over the desk when Beckett didn't look up.

When he did look up, it was with indecision. He sighed, clearly not happy with his options, "Right… Colonel, close that door. What I say doesn't leave this room. Do both of ye understand that?"

"Of course," Elizabeth assured.

"Sheppard, I'm only telling you because I need you to drag Rodney in here if it takes an army. And Dr. Weir, I need you to authorize the use of force if it becomes necessary." He wanted to make it clear that he was only already breaching his promise to give Rodney complete confidentiality because he had to.

"Carson, I need you to calm down and explain," Elizabeth said more calmly than she felt, while placing a silencing hand on Sheppard. He had looked like he was about to barrel over Carson with questions.

"Aye, Ye remember when Rodney was stuck in that blighted desalination tank?"

The expressions of both hardened at the memory. "We remember. Go on."

"I wanted to get an idea of how much voltage Rodney might have been exposed to, so Radek checked the logs. The short originated entirely outside the tank, in the main controls, and didn't spread. There shouldn't have been any damage inside the tank – let alone what Radek described. The wires were completely melted – the metal plates were fused together. He figured there must have been an explanation but wasn't able to find one, and then other things came up. At the time, there couldn't have been any explanation other than technological."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the revelation. But the significance was lost on John. He hadn't read the latest updates. "But now you're thinking…?"

The worried physician gestured towards the files now spread on his desk, "Now we know what happened to the failed test subjects, the ones who didn't survive. Ye already know that Rodney was the only survivor. The others burned alive."

Paled and somewhat green, Elizabeth sat back down in the chair. "What are you saying?"

"It was like they spontaneously combusted. Just like we know the Prior's sometimes do. The walls of that tank were melted. I can't be sure it's connected. But I've got to be sure. Can ye see that?"

This was completely crazy. Rodney was a paranoid hypochondriac. If he thought that anything was going to put his life in danger he'd go straight to Beckett. Wouldn't he? Suddenly John wasn't so sure… and he could certainly see that they needed to be. "Ok…. Give me until morning to get him to agree to come in. He's gonna come around. All you need to do, Carson, is help me make the pizza, and then stay on call."

"Alright." Carson acquiesced reluctantly, "Ye have until sunrise. Then you get him in here whether he bloody well likes it or not!"

"Deal," John agreed readily.

"I'll help with the pizza…" Elizabeth piped up, her colour returning. It wasn't much, but she needed to feel like she was doing something to help. Whatever Sheppard's plan was, it needed to work. She didn't want to even think about what would happen if she had to order a security detail to force Rodney to the infirmary.

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	14. Bottoms Up

Ch 13

A mouth watering scent drifted out of the kitchen and down the halls of Atlantis, beckoning Ronon into the mess hall. There was a lot of earth food that he wasn't familiar with yet. Whatever this was, it smelled great.

"Ronon! What brings you here?" Dr. Weir looked up from her seat in the mess hall, near the open entrance to the kitchen area, where she was playing cards with Sheppard.

"As if ye didn't know," Carson walked out of the kitchen, "I told ye it was a good idea to make extra."

"Extra what?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard grinned, "Extra pizza. Don't worry. There's plenty to go around, big guy. But the first one out is for Rodney. It's all part of the plan."

Ronon's eyebrows lifted at this, "Plan?"

"To help him relax while John tries to talk to him about a few things, that's all." Dr. Weir elaborated.

Ronon's eyebrows lifted higher at this, "And you're sending him?" He pointed at John.

"Aye lad, desperate times, desperate measures." John pouted at Carson, "It's just cooling enough to be wrapped. Ye'd best do whatever it is yer planning."

"Alright," John threw Ronon a smug look, "Keep quiet and prepare to be impressed." He keyed his radio to Rodney's channel, "Well?"

There was a moment of silence before Rodney's confused voice sounded out of the radio, 'Well what?'

Sheppard paused for effect before answering, "Aren't you curious yet about what you can do to start earning my trust back?"

Carson's jaw dropped and Elizabeth looked like she was considering throwing something at John. He lifted his finger to his lips to remind them to keep quiet.

'Oh that is just so juvenile… … … YES! Yes I'm curious.'

A satisfied smile spread across John's face, "Good. Meet me in that tower where your piano is."

'When?' The tone was uncertain and nervous now.

"Now." John answered simply.

There was a muffled sigh, 'Fine.'

He turned back to the kitchen and found that Carson, Elizabeth, and even Ronon stood with their arms folded and accusing looks, "Hey. This will work. Trust me."

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The room was almost exactly as John had remembered it. The dimmed lights in one of the Ancient cities tallest towers allowed a perfect view of the sky above through clear glass. Layers of stars blended together to become almost cloud-like. It felt so open.

Rodney was already there waiting for him, and turned from where he'd been gazing out at that openness when he heard John's footsteps echo in the room. Rodney McKay, the most arrogant man he'd ever met. The man who'd saved his life more times than he could count. The man who was terrified of everything but would put himself in harms way in a heart-beat to protect his team. Probably the only scientist with enough of a sense of fun to let himself be shot at and thrown off a balcony to test a neat device. He might not know McKay as well as he'd once thought he did. But what he'd seen made him want to know more. The man behind that mask was worth the effort.

John couldn't suppress his smile at the bewildered and uncertain look inspired by the crate in his arms and the lightly wrapped package on top. "You smuggle any chairs up here, McKay?"

The scientist looked startled for a moment, "Oh, um, no but…" There was a patented snap pop of his hands before Rodney jogged towards the closed doors beside the transporter, on the flat side of the semi-circular room. They slid open to reveal a long room, which John could see McKay had turned into a work-shop. Parts were piled neatly underneath a make-shift workbench and in various crates. McKay brought out three empty crates and arranged two as seats, and one as a table.

Sheppard sat and unwrapped the still hot pizza. He motioned for McKay to sit and take a slice. The scientist smelled the pizza and eyed the crate warily the entire time. He knew Sheppard often had a casual, cavalier way of dealing with things. But McKay didn't believe for a minute that all he had to do to earn back Sheppard's professional confidence was sit and share a pizza. Although, it was really good pizza. Where had Sheppard gotten pizza?

His suspicions were confirmed after he'd finished his first slice. Sheppard rested his elbows on his knees and looked at McKay, his expression now serious. "So. Now I'm going to tell you how you can start earning my trust back."

Rodney barely suppressed an eye-roll. He'd been pretty certain what Colonel Pit-bull was going to try and get him to talk about. Rodney had even briefly considered refusing Sheppard's invitation. Only briefly. He wasn't sure why, but Sheppard's opinion actually seemed to matter to him more than anyone else's. Damned Colonel with his happy-go-lucky Wraith-naming glass half full cocky fly-boy self-sacrificing constantly joking and incessantly THERE ways… How much valuable discovery time had been wasted all those times Sheppard had MANIPULATED him into watching that football video? McKay folded his arms and prepared for a round of 20 personal questions, most if not all of which he'd have to make up answers for. "I'm listening."

Sheppard watched as McKay rolled his eyes and folded his arms as though steeling himself. The walls were still up. But as Sheppard continued to watch, McKay shifted uncomfortably, then uncertainly… and he could glimpse past Rodney's walls enough to see that this really mattered to him. "Good… Here's what you have to do. You have to trust me."

Rodney frowned in confusion. He trusted John all the time. His life depended on it. "What?"

Sheppard continued in a serious tone, "Trust, like friendship, is a two way thing Rodney. I can't even begin to trust you if you can't trust me."

At that, the confusion deepened. "What are you talking about? I do trust you."

"No you don't." Sheppard countered more forcefully than he intended. This conversation would go no-where fast of Rodney wasn't going to at least admit the obvious truth that he didn't trust any of them.

Rodney's eyes narrowed at the tone and he lifted his chin defiantly, "I trust you all the time! I trust you to keep me alive when we're out on missions..."

"It's not the same thing." John interrupted the beginning of what he knew would become a McKay tirade on all the ways and situations he'd trusted Sheppard in.

The response was a sarcastic snip, "I think you're underestimating the value I place on my life."

Sheppard bit back an equally sarcastic retort. Instead he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. This was a diversion. McKay was baiting him into another verbal sparring match, rather than dealing with the issue at hand. He looked at his friend and took in the genuine ire, and realized that McKay probably didn't even realize he was doing it half the time. It was habit.

When he was sure he was calm again he patiently repeated himself, "Rodney. It's not the same thing. And it's not just me. It's Elizabeth, Carson, Zelenka… If we're your friends then you really have to trust us, on more than a professional level."

McKay sighed in defeat and accepted the topic, "Trust you in what way?"

A triumphant glint lit up in Sheppard's eyes. Diversion averted! "Talk to us. Trust that we have only your best interests at heart. Trust that we only want what's good for you."

The moody scientist bristled and looked at Sheppard as though he were seriously proposing the world was flat and Creationism was a Science. His best interests? Only what's good for him? Oh please. He couldn't even trust his parents to do that. "Oh how heart-warmingly Mickey Mouse of you. Shall we start up a round of Zippideedooda? Be realistic Colonel. It's a lovely sentiment but you have to look at the bigger picture. There are always larger, more immediate, concerns."

Anger welled up in John at how much Rodney clearly believed that, "That's not true."

"Don't lie to me." Rodney stood and spat out his words vehemently, "Caldwell made it clear that Earths need for a more powerful weapon right now, to use against the Ori AND the Wraith, is a much bigger concern to everyone here and on earth. And who could blame them?"

Caldwell. Sheppard felt his heart clench with anger and the heat start to rise in his face. Caldwell was supposed to be giving Rodney space until he was given the O.K from Weir. "Oh he did, did he? When was this?"

Rodney eyed Sheppard suspiciously. Why did he look surprised and upset by that? They all knew, including Sheppard, why Caldwell was here. "When I saw Carson… in a jumper bay with that…that…"

Sheppard watched as McKay began to stumble over his words turn pale. He knew what McKay was referring to and saved him from having to explain further, for now, "Carson told me about it."

The sudden anger drained from Rodney and was replaced with a sigh of defeat, "I don't blame him. Not really. But when there are two galaxies at stake…"

Sheppard was pretty sure he shouldn't be seeing red. He swallowed hard and forced his voice to sound calm, "That's what Caldwell said?"

"That's what he said…and it makes sense. Logically I know that…"

SNAP! "OF ALL THE…" Sheppard shot off the crate and paced a long line as an internal war of words erupted inside him, imagining all the things he'd like to say to his 'superior' officer. But when he noticed Rodney watching him with a look of surprised concern he forced himself back to the present, "Well, here's what I'M saying. And I'M the one you should listen to because I'M your FRIEND." He paused to make sure he had Rodney's rapt attention, "Carson, Elizabeth, Ronon, Teyla, Radek, and I are your friends. We're your team! We're here to look out for you. You can trust us."

When the doubt and distrust didn't leave Rodney's gaze Sheppard wanted to pick him up and shake him, "McKay. Do you want me to trust you ever again or not?"

"Of course, but…"

"I can't even begin to trust you if you can't trust me."

"I don't know how." The completely crest-fallen answer from Rodney was enough to sap the anger from Sheppard and refocus him on his mission.

"I know, McKay. Relax. I have a plan." He threw his best lopsided flyboy-grin as he opened the crate he'd brought with him, to reveal four six-packs of beer.

Rodney stared blankly at the open crate before cautiously forming a response, "Your plan… is to get me drunk?"

"Trust me. And loosen up a bit. We're just going to play a little drinking game." Sheppard opened one of the packs. And considered a moment. He'd never seen Rodney drink all that much. He'd better make sure he had enough food in him. "Have some more pizza."

"What is this? College?"

"McKay…"

"You do realize that alcohol kills brain cells."

"Rodney…"

"Ok… ok… ok… Just saying…"

"Here's how you play. I'm going to ask you some questions and when I can tell that you're trusting me with the truth, and I trust you a bit more because of it, we'll have a beer. You still look confused so we'll start with a warm-up."

Sheppard had given McKay a goal – earn his trust back – and now he'd given McKay a way to measure his successes – beer. Now John was counting on the stubborn over-achiever in McKay to rise to the challenge. "What's with the piano?"

"Oh," That was an easier question than McKay was expecting, all things considered. "It just helps me to relieve some stress, you know?"

"I get that. What I meant was; why don't you like anyone to hear you?"

McKay bristled, "That's a bit of a personal question, isn't it?"

"That's the point."

"FINE! Because I know I'm not that good. It's just for my own enjoyment, ok?"

Sheppard wondered how the hell McKay reached that conclusion. "Who told you that?"

A fleeting glance at the glittering grand piano held deeply buried disappointment, "My piano teacher told me I was too clinical."

John never would have guessed that the great McKay would hang so much on other people's opinions. Thinking back to Caldwell he realized McKay was actually pretty gullible too. He'd have to remember in the future that Rodney listens to other people more than he lets on. "Well, you either improved a lot or your teacher sucked."

"Really? Uh, thanks." The response was accompanied by a doubtful frown.

"Yes, really. And I play guitar, by the way."

"Oh. Do you speak a foreign language?" Rodney recalled his strange conversation with Zelenka and seized at the opportunity to prove the Czech wrong.

The hopeful look that came with the random question was a little confusing to Sheppard. "A little."

Rodney sighed in disappointment, "Oh."

Wait. Was this another diversion? Dammit. "Rodney! Focus! That was a warm up. Here's the real thing. How much do you remember about what was done to you?"

Rodney looked at John a little like a deer caught in head-lights, only he was caught in indecision. None of this would even be happening if the Trust hadn't somehow found out about Phoenix and his involvement in it… Why did that have to happen? Rodney had been comfortable with the way things were… Wraith and killer nano-bots and such aside…

It felt like his life was being stolen from him a second time. If he just claimed not to remember anything would John leave it at that? "I can't…" He stopped and looked away. After John's speech about trust… that look on his face… Rodney couldn't lie this time. "I can't talk about that. Please don't ask me to."

"You can. It's just hard. I told you, you could earn my trust back, if you really tried. This is where the trying comes in." The silence seemed to stretch long as John waited for Rodney's answer, while Rodney stared at a fixed point on the floor.

"I remember everything."

John nodded, unsurprised, "Why never tell us about it?"

Rodney stood and began to pace as he counted off reasons on his fingers. "Because I want to forget. Because I couldn't risk it. Because I don't want to be used that way again…"

Finally getting a real look at the way Rodney thinks was even bleaker than John had expected. The man had some pretty messed up misconceptions, "You really think we'd use you?"

"You do." It wasn't said accusingly.

But that didn't take the edge off it one bit, "What!"

The need to elaborate what was to him an obvious point elicited an eye-roll from McKay, "It's why I'm here. To do a job. I'm an astrophysicist. I'm an engineer. I'm a damn good scientist and I'm a genius. It's what I'm here to be used for and I like it. I love this work."

"Keep going." John prompted.

Rodney stopped pacing and turned to him, becoming agitated and gesturing animatedly as he spoke, "But if you knew I could do more, wouldn't you expect it? Wouldn't everyone? Even if it's not what I want? I'm not a translator, I'm not a doctor, I'm not an environmentalist, I'm not a chemist, not a geologist. I'm a damn good Astro-physicist with a dash of Engineering. This way the choice is mine. It stays mine. No-one tries to take it away…use me just because I'm the one that's capable. I don't care about politics, nations fighting nations, spying, assassination, it's all pointlessly stupid it's…"

"Whoah, whoah. Slow down. I need to catch up." It was difficult to be sure, but it seemed like the subject had changed a few times there.

"Sorry. It's just… it's not that I think you'd do that. I've revealed too much of myself before and… It's just I can't risk that anyone else would… would… I mean if they found out that I could…"

Ok, So McKay was trying to say that he was afraid of losing his choices. Sheppard thought of how he'd feel if he was never allowed to fly again, "I think I get it. Here, have a beer."

The can was snatched up and downed in one.

Sheppard watched as it took effect and his friend relaxed minimally, "Ok… So you remember. I get that you don't want to be used. I sort of get why you didn't want to talk about it. So next question; Why'd they take you in the first place? Why you?"

His friend sighed and sat back down, "That's what I was trying to tell you. They picked me because the scope of my understanding was broader than anyone else they could find while losing no depth of understanding."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, for example, that I'm about as capable in every other field of science as I am in physics."

That actually explained a lot. McKay was always displaying a ridiculous amount of knowledge about everything. It had been confusing when McKay would suddenly claim something was beyond him and have one of his specialists handle it. But if Sheppard ever tried to call him on it McKay always had a long complex, sarcastic explanation that Sheppard didn't have the expertise to challenge. "Ok. Anything else you've been holding back on?"

Rodney thinks for a moment, then nods, "Actually…I can speak all the languages of the people on Atlantis."

Now that was a surprise. John nearly sprayed his beer everywhere, but managed to force himself to swallow, "So you know what they're saying when they think you don't! They'd kill you! No wait, RADEK would kill you!"

John took another swig of his own beer before tossing Rodney his second, "For that you get another beer."

Rodney grinned mischievously but it was quickly replaced by a look of wide-eyed concern, "You're not going to tell them, are you?"

John sighed and looked at Rodney seriously, "McKay… Rodney. Everything you say can remain between us… unless your health or the safety of Atlantis is at risk by it. Everything you've told me so far, as far as I'm concerned, isn't my place to tell the others."

"Good." Rodney nodded gratefully, then looked distant, "That was another reason why me. You see, people, they think how they speak. In their own language. Their thoughts, everything they know, everything they understand about the world is structured and filtered through that. If you can't understand their language, you can't really understand what they're thinking. There's not much point in trying to give someone the ability to read minds if they won't be able to process or understand anything they see."

This seemed like as good an opening as any to ask the million dollar question, "O.K… Did it work?"

There was a long pause of silence between the two men before Rodney answered, "Yes."

John's eyes widened in surprise and he felt a surge of paranoia. Had Rodney been reading their minds all this time? "Um, how well?"

"A lot well."

John did his best not to look too freaked out, "So can you…? He gestured at his head and winced."

"No!" Rodney blurted, "God no. I shudder to think what mysteries lay in the void that is the mind of John Sheppard. Or any of the other marines here come to think of it. I'd probably loose brain cells just looking!"

John was first relieved, then insulted, "Hey!" He was about to shoot out a witty retort when he noticed that Rodney wasn't looking directly at him anymore. John narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "You're holding something back. What aren't you saying?"

"It's complicated," McKay wrung his hands nervously, the way he did when they were out on missions and he had to explain that things were about to turn from bad to worse. That look was never good.

"Try me."

"The drugs… the treatments… the things they did to me…" Rodney scrunched his eyes closed against the memories and forced himself to continue with his explanation, "They wear off, over a relatively short time. Within like two months of… of… getting away I was just your average Joe Genius with only my massive intellect to set me apart and help me survive."

"But..."

"But something's not quite right. Pretty much since we first came to Pegasus. It's not like before. Nothing like before. I get impressions sometimes… no more than most people's instincts I think. I can't control it. It just happens. And I can't read minds… just get emotions mostly, barely.

Except for a couple of times. It started with that energy sucking entity… then later with Chaya. I could tell she was lieing. I figure maybe it's because she was an ancient. She and that entity must have something in common. I mean, the ancients were studying it to evolve so it would make sense. The truth is I try not to think about it. For the most part it was just those two times and nothing worse has happened. I did a few scans of myself when I first found the ancient medical equipment and was figuring out how it worked for Carson, and couldn't find anything so… So I just tried not to think about it." Rodney swallowed dryly and finished the beer he was still holding. Knowing something was wrong with him, and not being able to tell anyone, had been difficult. It was idiotic for him to be talking about it now. But now he'd said this much, what was the point in holding back?

The Chaya situation was still a sore spot for John. So that's why Rodney had been so certain about Chaya. And this had been going on since the energy entity? Carson would not be happy about that. They could both complain about that later. "How about the telekinesis?"

At that, Rodney shot John a look of death, "If I answer that will you and the human canon stop throwing things at me?"

John sighed tiredly at the new conversational bunny trail Rodney was hopping onto. Getting Rodney to stay on any topic he wasn't completely comfortable with was exhausting. "Rodney…"

Hop, hop, down the trail, "I'm just saying that left bruises! You damaged blood vessels!"

"Alright." If it will get him to drop it and answer the damn question, "I'm sorry. Now answer the question and have another beer."

"Fine. I honestly don't know. As I said before, I shouldn't be able to at all. But, all things considered, probably maybe a little. I certainly haven't tested it. I do know that I couldn't have stopped that ball or… or… what did you throw at me?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes, "A pen."

"Right. A PEN! You could have put my eye out!"

Sheppard did his best to ignore the bunny trail, "Maybe we should test it. Can you show me?"

"What! You want to see my eye put out?"

"Rodney."

"I suppose it would be a good idea to know…"

"You know what else would be a good idea, don't you? You need to let Carson check you over."

"No."

"Rodney. He's your friend too. You can trust him. And if something is going on up in that big brain of yours, you need to figure out what it is. Give him a chance?"

"Fine. I guess it can't be avoided anymore."

Not exactly the declaration of trust and confidence that Sheppard had been hoping for, but he'd take it. "Ok. Last question for now. What was that big iron thing for?"

Rodney took a deep breath tried to ignore the fact that his voice was suddenly weak and shaky. He tried to approach it clinically, as though he were explaining some ancient bit of technology to Sheppard and not… "A few things. Three, actually. One - Some of the chemicals were more effective as gasses. Two – the drugs weren't effective enough by themselves. To initially activate parts of our brains that were never meant to be used that way sensory depravation was required. It would starve the brain for input, thereby forcing it to seek input elsewhere… in the parts stimulated by the drug treatments. And Three – they would give me a task to complete, some information to gather usually, and they wouldn't let me out until I'd completed it…" He took a shuddering breath, "There! ... there… I said it… That wasn't so bad…"

John watched as Rodney tried to explain in a detached manner, but as he spoke his friend paled badly and by the time he was finished Rodney was hyperventilating. John took another empty can out of his friends badly shaking hands, "It's ok Rodney. You did good. We're gonna take a break from the questions now."

When Rodney's breathing didn't slow John looked around the room for something else for the scientist to focus on. He knew from experience that what Rodney needed was something sciencey, then he spotted it… "Say, what's that gun thing on the work-bench over there. You haven't been playing with weapons up here by yourself, have you?"

Rodney followed Sheppard's gaze, "What? Oh THAT. No, Rambo, it's not a weapon. It's a portable anti-gravitational field generator I've been tinkering with. It works pretty well actually. It's ancient design. It was actually quite a common tool, but they didn't leave any behind in the city that I could find. They left blue-prints though…" His breathing evened as he expounded on the theories behind how the device worked and an excited glint appeared in his eyes as he listed alternative applications.

"That's a lot of applications," John observed, "So… would it really be such a bad thing if it turns out that you can, you know, make things float?"

Rodney rolled his eyes scornfully, "There is a hell of a lot more to telekinesis than 'making things float' Colonel. And YES it would be a bad thing. Though I'll admit for the two months it lasted while I was on my own, it was kind of fun. Oh stop looking at me like that, FINE, we'll test it now."

Sheppard grinned like a kid in spite of the potential seriousness of the situation. Real life super-powers were hard to deny as cool. He wondered what 'fun' things Rodney had done when he was on his own. Wait… when had he been on his own? He was about to ask but Rodney had already darted to his work shop and was coming out with a vial of shiny stuff. "What's that?"

"These are tiny little left-over fragments of ancient crystals. I thought they might come in handy later, maybe as a polymer base if dusted… they should be light yet visible enough for a simple test." He unstopped the vial and shook a little out onto the floor. They made a tinkling sound as they fell.

Sheppard watched as Rodney narrowed his eyes in a look of concentration. He followed Rodney's gaze down to the fragments on the floor… nothing happened at first. Then one of the smallest pieces lifted slowly and hovered about a metre in the air. Sheppard crouched to look at it more closely. "Cool!"

"Heh, yeah. I could only get one though, and it's difficult." The fragment wobbled up and down and Rodney's brows furrowed in surprised concern. He wasn't telling it to do that. A strange buzzing sensation that had been floating pleasantly at the back of Rodney's head suddenly became stronger. Where was that coming from? Oh ya… beer. "That's not good."

Catching the worry in Rodney's tone, John quickly looked away from the floating object to his friend, "What?"

A sharp stab of pain shot through Rodney's skull as he tried to regain control. He cried out and put his hands to his head, "It hurts."

A high-pitched whirring caused Sheppard to turn back to the fragment in time to see it start spinning more quickly and shaking, "Ok, ok! You can stop now!"

"No, actually, I can't." The tight pain and urgency in Rodney's voice brought John to his side.

"Rodney?" He lay a hand on Rodney's shoulder, but his friend seemed unaware that he had even moved.

"It's out of control! Back away from it now!" The panicked tone moved Sheppard into quick action. He grabbed Rodney and dragged him down and away from the fragment seconds before a loud bang and a bright flash.

Sheppard turned to see smoke hanging in the air, and a metre wide black scorch mark on the floor where they'd been standing. Apparently that had been the radius of the blast. A quiet groan turned his attention back to McKay, "Rodney?"

His eyes were scrunched closed and he curled in on himself, "Still hurts."

"You said yes about Carson, right?" Not that Sheppard wasn't going to call the doctor now whether Rodney liked it or not. But if it Rodney could feel like it was his choice, that would be better. Fortunately Rodney nodded weakly.

With a quick flip of his radio he called Beckett, "Carson, this is Sheppard. You can come in now. Hurry."

Fortunately, the mother-hen instincts had left the physician unable to wait in the infirmary or the mess hall. It was all Sheppard could do to convince him to wait at the other end of the transporter until Rodney was ready to talk to him. In an instant Carson was marching out of the transporter. "About time!" Then he noticed Rodney, "… Bloody hell! What have ye done to him!"

"I don't know! We were just testing out his telekinesis and it all went wrong!" Sheppard answered honestly.

"You what?" Carson demanded in a horrified tone. "Ye were just supposed to talk to him ye git!"

"I didn't know this could happen!" Sheppard defended.

"Spontaneous combustion ring a bell, Colonel?" Carson reddened in anger.

Sheppard winced guiltily. Carson had a point, "Rodney? What happened! How do we help you?"

Rodney cracked open his eyes at John's plea's of concern and managed a short-syllable answer, "Beer bad. Need coffee."

"Oh lovely. Ye got him drunk first! Have I called ye a git yet?"

"He agreed to come to the infirmary." John lamely defended.

"Now if only he could walk there too!" Carson scowled and muttered something that sounded like 'git' again.

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	15. The Real McKay

Chapter 14

"McKay! McKay!" Sheppard's voice was tight with urgency. Rodney had stopped responding after his plea for coffee. He lay limply now, his face slack.

Carson had already called for a medical team to meet him on the other end of the transporter. There was no way a gurney was going to fit in the cramped space of that particular transporter. His initial panic and anger pushed aside, the physician was now in professional mode, checking pulse and pupil dilation. "Colonel, help me move 'im to the lift. It will take too long to get a gurney all the way out here.

They sat him up and each swung one of his arms over their shoulder. Gently, they half carried half dragged their friend to the tranporter. Beckett's staff were already waiting with the gurney on the other side and swiftly loaded him onto it.

They'd made it half way to the infirmary before McKay began to struggle incoherently. John watched at Carson held Rodney down and spoke quietly to him. Whatever he'd said, it worked. Rodney was calm the rest of the way.

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The pain spider-webbing through Rodney's skull faded, leaving only the dull buzzing sensation and vagueness. His mind felt spent from the effort of controlling the tiny shard of ancient crystal. These sensations were familiar, but somehow different. Where was he?

Hands gently lifted him. _He was being dragged from out of the chamber._ Voices. Medical orders. He felt himself being set onto a gurney. _They'd take him to a hospital. There would be more needles and tests. He didn't want that. He should escape!_ A hand held him down gently as he struggled, "We got ye lad. Yer safe. We'll have ye feelin' better in no time."

_They wanted to help._ He knew he should run but the voice was familiar, calming, and Rodney lay back against the gurney. This time he'd wait and see… maybe accept. He was so tired of hiding.

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Earth – Sonora Mexico

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Camouflaged bodies crept low along the ground around the perimeter of a seemingly broken down compound in the middle of nowhere in the Sonoran Desert. What was left of a metal fence was half buried in sand and full of holes. The building itself was almost entirely buried in sand. The only sign that the building was in use at all was the fact that the one door to the compound wasn't buried.

O'Neill lifted his binoculars and gave the building one last thorough scan for signs of automated defences. "This doesn't seem right. It's too easy. How's that energy reading?"

"Strong and steady sir," the troop beside him replied. He was balancing a clunky scanning device while holding up a badly camouflaged radar-like dish. "You think it's our man?"

What O'Neill wouldn't give for one of those nifty little detectors he'd read about in the Atlantis reports. "There's one way to find out."

He lifted a hand and signalled for team one to follow his lead even as he crept from behind the meagre cover of a sand dune, P90 at ready.

Warning bells echoed all the more loudly in O'Neill's gut as teams silently spread to search the inner compound. It was dark, quiet, and utterly deserted, though floors and walls shined spotlessly of recent use.

Room after room was found to be deserted. When they reached a pair of sliding doors with no power, team two crow-barred them open to reveal an elevator shaft. The soldier that had been reading the energy signal held an almost as clunky device over the shaft before signalling that it went down about thirty floors. There must be an enormous underground complex. O'Neill didn't like the idea of searching for their man down there.

Fortunately, it was then that team three signalled that they'd found him and motioned to the next nearest room.

Sure enough, in the centre of a large square room was a man tied to a chair with a black bag over his head. He was of the same approximate height and build as Dr. McKay and wore a t-shirt sporting some physics diagram that apparently added up to a coffee molecule, or so O'Neill had been told.

In his lap sat a moderately sized device with blinking lights that appeared to be counting down to something. Oh Crap.

The leader of team four joined the leaders of teams one through three at the door to the room and signalled that the entire area was confirmed clear.

The soldier leading team two was the first to break the silence, "Is that what I think it is?"

"I really hope not," O'Neill whispered needlessly.

"It's a naquada bomb," the soldier with the scanning devices answered in a shaky voice.

"You see, that's what I hoped it wasn't," O'Neill quipped in annoyance before ordering into his head-piece, "All teams fall-back, except team one stay with me. And you." He motioned to scanner guy, "What's your name?"

"Sergeant Atwood, sir," the soldier supplied.

"You stick with me," the kid was no Carter but he'd have to do. But O'Neill was really beginning to wish he'd opted to bring Carter.

Team one took up guard positions at the three entrances to the room, while the soldier with the scanners hung back.

Carefully but quickly, O'Neill approached the chair and the bomb. The fake McKay's head hung forward and he slouched limply in his bonds. O'Neill felt for a pulse. It was steady and strong, and he was breathing. Cautiously, so as not to disturb the bomb, the black hood was lifted to reveal a face so uncannily like Dr. Rodney McKay's it gave O'Neill the creeps.

"What's Dr. McKay doing here!" Atwood piped up in shock, "I thought he was in another Gal…"

"Location classified!" A female soldier elbowed the hapless man.

O'Neill shot an incredulous look at one of America's finest, "Did we not all read our pre-mission briefings?"

"There wasn't much time sir," the female soldier supplied apologetically.

"I, uh, skimmed it sir," Atwood winced.

Fair enough. The mission had been thrown together in a rush. Most of the troops were hastily pulled from nearby duty on short notice, "Long story short, that's not McKay."

The fresh air seemed to rejuvenate the McKay decoy because he began to stir. O'Neill placed a steadying hand on the man's soldier, mostly out of self preservation. "Easy there soldier. No sudden movements."

"Whu?" Bleary blue eyes gazed around at the other soldiers in the darkened room, then widened alertly as they fell on the bomb in his lap.

"How much time is left on this thing?" O'Neill asked the McKay without thinking.

"You're asking me!" came the snarkilly incredulous reply. "I just woke up! I probably have a concussion here!"

"I'd say about six minutes sir," Sergeant Atwood replied."Is it safe to move it?" O'Neill asked.

"Relatively…," Atwood shrugged.

"Relatively?" O'Neill queried.

"Well, compared to leaving it there, sir…" Atwood shrugged.

At this the Fake McKay launched into a rant almost worthy of the real McKay. "You call this a rescue? You do realize that if you let me die you'll be responsible for significantly reducing the cumulative IQ of the entire human race? And is it safe to at least untie me?"

"You know what?" O'Neill quipped back as he sliced the robes binding decoy McKay's hands, "That is really creepy. Plus, you don't have to do that anymore. The jig is up!"

"Sorry sir," a shockingly un-McKay voice replied. The decoy rubbed his wrists briefly before reaching behind his neck and peeling off his face to reveal a very black, smooth-faced man. With the blue contact lenses still intact the effect was weird.

O'Neill grimaced sarcastically, "That's better." He turned pointedly back to Atwood, "Can you disarm it?"

Atwood leaned close to the device and carefully pried at a few components, "No sir. Not completely." He pulled a couple of small tools from a pocket and squinted, "I think I can reduce the blast significantly though…"

A couple of minutes passed and O'Neill motioned for the soldiers guarding the entrances to back off and move away. A quick order into his headset sent the troops outside farther away as well. "Running out of time here Atwood…"

"Got it sir!" Atwood breathed out in relief and held up a small metal container.

"You disarmed it?" the McKay decoy asked hopefully.

"No. I managed to isolate and remove most of the naquada from the device sir. But there will still be trace amounts and will still make one hell of a blast. We won't be able to get clear but the others will be safe…" Atwood gave an apologetic look the remaining three assembled. "Sorry I couldn't do more."

"It's enough. How much time?" O'Neill patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Three minutes." Atwood answered dejectedly.

"I have an idea. Hand it over and get out of here!" O'Neill practically barked the order. Atwood swiftly and cautiously lifted the explosive part of the device and handed it over to O'Neill.

They ran towards the entrance with O'Neill close behind. Once out of the room O'Neill turned towards the elevator shaft and tossed the bomb in, pausing long enough to look down and be sure it was falling straight down before turning and pegging towards the door.

The halls of the facility were long, and the light of the entrance shone brightly. It looked absurdly like one of those dreams where the dreamer was running ineffectually down a hall that would never end. A deafening blast sounded behind O'Neill just as he barrelled through the exit. The ground shook and precious seconds were lost to catching his balance. He looked over his shoulder long enough to see a column of fire shooting out of the building where the shaft must be.

The next few moments were a blur as he ran full pelt towards where the troops had gathered, motioning for them to back up farther, all the while with a surreal sense of the earth dropping just behind him.

He reached them in time for a massive cloud of dust and sand to engulf them.

When it settled. All that left was of the compound was a massive crater filling with sand.

"Are you ok, Sir? ... General?" One of the soldiers from team three looked concerned.

"Oh ya. This is kids stuff." If O'Neill noticed the other soldiers looking at him with awe or incredulity he didn't show it. And his phone rang just then anyway.

_"Jack, hi… where are you? This is a terrible connection." _Daniel's tone was speculative. He'd had his suspicions about General Jack O'Neill's new desk job for some time now. The truth was, Jack had felt more than a little personal responsibility towards isolating and neutralizing the Goa'uld threat on earth. And so a good portion of his new job involved heading up that operation. The catch was that it had to be done without any other country knowing it. Daniel had this thing about seeing the Earth as one big happy family. But if Russia or any other major world power had reason to believe that the United States, or any other major country, had been significantly infiltrated by the Goa'uld it could lead to a very messy war.

O'Neill suspected that Carters original suspicions about how deep the Goa'uld infiltration into the Trust really was had been pretty close to the mark. But until he had definite proof and an action plan, few others could be allowed to know that.

"Oh, you know… around…" O'Neill replied casually.

_"Right… Well, Your Generalship, if you're feeling awake enough to come into work yet, Sam's found something I think you'd like to see… Do I hear a helicopter?"_ Daniel replied suspiciously. Damn, he was too smart for his own good.

Jack looked over his shoulder to see several helicopters landing nearby, "No…" Well. It wasn't 'a' helicopter. "I'm watching television." Ok, so O'Neill wasn't above flat out lying. "Look, gimme a couple of hours to… freshen up and I'll be right in."

_"A couple of hours?"_ O'Neill could hear Daniel cluck his tongue in that way he did when he didn't want to roll his eyes.

"Extra fresh," he excused lamely. "Besides…"

_"Generals prerogative. I know."_ Daniel sighed.

"You're learning." O'Neill admonished before ending the call. The sound of Atwood's enthusiastic voice caught O'Neill's attention. He'd have to make sure that kid got a commendation. He did good.

O'Neill turned and spotted the technologically trained soldier talking to the Sergeant that had been impersonating McKay. "That impersonation you did was incredible!"

"Nah, I've done better." Now that he was fully out of character the man had a thickening Louisiana accent, "Dr. McKay is the easiest I've had"

"Really?" Atwood answered somewhat disbelievingly, "I would have thought he'd be the hardest."

"Nah," The other man half laughed and insisted assuredly, "Most people take a lot more effort. You have to get every mannerism right down to how they squint their eyes or someone will call you on it. But McKay is full of stuff that distracts from that. People don't hear anything but the stabbing sarcasm. The arrogance makes them too busy trying not to see all the stuff he's gloating about to actually see him."

O'Neill considered that insight for a moment before summoning the troops, "Ok, guys. Good work. Let's go home."

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Earth – StarGate Command

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No amount of technology could completely erase the chill in the air that came from being so deep beneath the earth. It was almost certainly a leading cause of caffeine addiction among the staff of Cheyenne Mountain. It was rare for anyone to be found sitting still for long without a hot mug of coffee in their hands to force back the creeping cool. That was the only time when it was ever really noticeable, when they were sitting still for paper-work or projects.

One thing there was never a shortage of was paper-work. And particularly for Sam or Daniel there was never a shortage of research projects demanding their attention. Sam really should have been using some of this unwanted spare time to work on one of those, like Daniel was. But she couldn't concentrate. She just couldn't stop thinking about Rodney McKay.

Since all this had begun she'd managed to keep a professional distance. Col. Carter approached it as just another military assignment. She'd kept herself focussed on the specific tasks assigned to SG-1. Gather the cold facts. But now that she wasn't moving anymore, the cold was creeping in. And this wasn't the sort of cold a coffee could hold at bay.

Sam wanted to be moving. She needed another goal to focus on. But she was stuck with nothing relevant to the mission to do but sit and wait for Jack to come and hear what she had found or for General Landry to finish arranging the co-operation of international intelligence.

The first time she had met Rodney, Carter had been ready to like him. With his floppy Scooby-doo-esque hair and baggy college boy clothes he was classic retro-Geek. It was kind of cute. Then he spoke, and that pretty much killed the cute.

It hadn't helped that Hammond and Maybourne had started a 'who's scientist is better than who's' contest. After hearing Maybourne brag about McKay's support in the Pentagon she'd even stooped to accusing McKay of having a fan club. Which hadn't been fair really – wasn't everyone at SGC equally confident in her own abilities? But his fans were Pentagon. Worse! They were NID.

He was arrogant. He was beyond arrogant! What's worse, he was trying to get a rise from her from word one and succeeding EVERY time! She didn't know what was more aggravating about him, the fact that he could bait a reaction out of her so easilly or his arrogance. No, it was definitely his arrogance, coupled with the fact that he was right too damned often. It made her clench her teeth just thinking about it.

He'd been wrong about the crystals being incapable of retaining any information. But he had had 'quantitative evidence' to back up his theory. While all she had had was an educated hunch.

He had been right about the limitations of the Stargate dialling interface that served as Earth's substitute for a DHD. He'd been right about the lack of DHD being the reason Teal'c had been trapped.

He'd been right about her solution causing a power surge. It blew up earths only DHD. It was luck that it hadn't done more.

But she had learned from experience that sometimes, often, luck was all you had and it was enough. McKay had been a desk-bound scientist that had only ever worked with models, equations, ideas and he was arrogant enough to see that as an advantage.

It had been a pleasant surprise when McKay had been reassigned to Russia. The look on his face had been priceless. More surprising, though, had been the base-wide gossip that had followed his departure.

Rumour had it that the Pentagon had just one man that they went to with all the most advanced foreign technologies and scientific advances. He could reverse engineer anything, and he was supposedly the reason that new technologies had been applied in the upper echelons of the government and the military as quickly as it had over the last couple of decades. Rumour had it that that one man had been with them since before he was old enough to drive. Rumour had it that he had single-handedly written and rewritten the Network Security programs for the Whitehouse, the Pentagon, and the entire Intelligence Service as technology progressed. The reclusive genius, according to the gossip, did all this in his head and with one lap-top and rarely left his home or office. When called on site, he'd give the subject of the project a bored glance then go to his office and tell the staff to just bring him the data. Rumour also had it that he had a tongue like acid and never listened to anyone because he always knew more than they did anyway. Having met him she had been inclined to believe the rumours had at least some basis in fact, even if they were clearly far fetched. Though now Carter wasn't so sure that they had been at all far-fetched.

The second time the Pentagon had sent her their Golden Boy to help solve a problem with the StarGate Carter had not been pleased, to say the least.

He was just as infuriating as before, and arrogant, and consistently right. He'd been right about the X-302 not working. He'd been right about her science teams theories being 'wrong and wrong'. She'd never admit it to him but she was actually grateful when McKay dismissively pointed it out to them. It had saved her the trouble of finding a tactful way to do it. She was the only one he didn't completely dismiss.

He'd been right about the EM Pulse being worth a try and about nobody having any better ideas at the time. If she'd thought for a moment it would have caused the feedback power surge that it did she never would have let it go ahead. But she hadn't predicted it. Nobody could have.

The damage the failure had caused had shaken him. And the glimpse she'd gotten of the real McKay was so different from the one who had been playing at pushing her buttons was stunning. The stark contrast freaked her out a bit. But when he'd called her an artist it was at once the most genuine and the most flattering compliment she had ever had.

He had immediately tried to cover with a claim of self-preservation, followed with a come-on designed to anger her. But that only served to reinforce the now obvious fact that he'd been playing her against himself.

After use of Russia's StarGate had been negotiated for StarGate Command Carter had started corresponding with McKay. She took his suggestion and worked with him to rewrite the dialling program. Holding her ineffectual lukewarm coffee as she read through that correspondence it was easy now to see where he had placed careful insults. Just enough to make her want to keep her distance but not so much to engender hatred again. And once again she was annoyed at how easily her buttons were pushed without her realizing it at the time.

After everything she had now learned about McKay's past, and maybe his present, Carter didn't know what to think of him. Genius? Ya... Obviously. Manipulative bastard? Check. Arrogant? Triple check! Sarcastic. Rude. Petty. Often mean-spirited. Bad with people. But who was he when he wasn't pushing people away and hiding like a cornered animal? Sam hoped she'd get a chance to find out.

"Hey." The sudden sound of Col. O'Neill's voice and casual stroll into her office made Sam jump in her seat.

"Welcome back sir," Sam greeted meaningfully once she'd gathered herself.

"Back?" O'Neill lifted his eye-brows in feigned innocence, then changed the subject. "So, how are you dealing with all this?"

"All what sir?" Sam furrowed her own brows in confusion.

"You know," Jack pressed. "All this with McKay. You two are… well I guess 'friends' is a strong word. But I've noticed there aren't many who can keep up with you up here," he tapped his head, "and you two…" He trailed off awkwardly and grimaced, "You know what? Never mind…"

Realizing that she'd been staring blankly, Sam quickly shook her head. It still surprised her how insightful Jack could be at times, "No, actually, I think friend fits. I mean, he's annoying as hell, arrogant, petty, bad with people but…"

"But scientist types have this annoying way of getting under your skin even if you don't want them to and especially if they're not even trying?" O'Neill finished her sentence then belatedly recalled that Sam is a scientist, "I meant Daniel… and I'd appreciate it if you never repeat that to him."

"Of course sir," Sam was used to the fact that Jack always struggled between seeing her as a soldier and seeing her as a scientist. Most at the SGC seemed to see her as Col. Carter before Dr. Carter. Even her fellow scientists. "I guess I'm finding it all a little strange."

"A little?" O'Neill quipped. "Daniel mentioned you found something.

"Yes. We took Dr. McKay's advise and did a search on the list of drugs he provided to Woolsey. We've also been scanning the internet for signs of anyone looking specifically for people of higher than average intelligence."

"And?"

"It's probable that the Trust has been much further along in the new Phoenix Experiment than we thought. And it turns out that they probably didn't decide to wait until they could get McKay to start."

"What makes you say that?" Jack responded in a tone that said this was not good news.

"Well, as I said, we've had intelligence doing a global search on the list of drugs Dr. McKay provided. We've found signs that an abnormal amount of these drugs have been funnelled into certain parts of the world for the past five years."

"Which parts?" The sinking feeling that Jack had since the mission in Sonora was growing.

"China, Japan, Africa, North Korea… We have people in those regions working on narrowing it down further." Daniel answered for Sam as he walked into the small office to stand beside Jack. Teal'c followed close behind and stood close to the door.

"Daniel! Teal'c!" Jack greeted.

"Jack. Welcome back." Daniel returned the greeting meaningfully.

"Narrowing is good. So, you found all that on the internet?" O'Neill deftly ignored the hinting welcome.

"No, we learned all that from the drug search intelligence has been doing. Sam found something else through the internet." Daniel corrected.

"We believe that many children of the Tau'ri have already been taken." Teal'c added gravely.

Sam pressed her lips thinly before explaining further. This was the part that had left a particularly sick feeling in her gut since she'd found it. "The increased drug production and smuggling activity coincides with an increased activity in the recruitment campaign of a High IQ Society."

O'Neill's eyes widened and he immediately questioned the most frightening part of that revelation. "What? You're organized? You have societies now? Like Geniuses of the World Unite, societies?"

Sam and Daniel locked eyes. It was like having an older, higher-ranked Mitchell. "One in particular is called MENSA," Daniel nudged the discussion back into focus."

"And kids join these things? Like it's fun?" O'Neill continued.

"Sir," Sam interjected, a little impatiently, "These societies are loose social groups with no hierarchy and little to no monitoring. It would be easy for certain individuals to use the testing processes to identify intelligent individuals for their own purposes. In fact, it's practically set up for that with Universities and research organizations often recruiting straight out of them."

O'Neill seemed satisfied with that explanation. "So, you're saying the Trust is using these societies, like MENSA to locate intelligent people."

"All over the world. Particularly in places where it would be easy to take people without anyone missing them. Such as countries with severe over-population or Third-World conditions," their anthropologist supplied further.

"The timing seems to coincide pretty closely to when we suspected the Goa'uld might have infiltrated the Trust to its deepest levels. I know that intelligence supposedly confirmed that that wasn't the case, but this seems pretty suspicious sir."

"And was also five years ago." O'Neill observed.

"Indeed." Teal'c confirmed.

"It does fit the Goa'uld M.O." Daniel added, "They're obsessed with creating more powerful hosts for themselves. The possibility of creating hosts with telekinetic and extra sensory abilities would be pretty tempting. Also, there was no Ori threat at the time when the Trust started all this…"

"Which means that the intelligence we've had so far has been fed to us." Mitchell filled in the final gap remaining in Sam's doorway, scowling and sweating with a towel around his neck. It was obvious he'd been working out his frustrations in the gym, "Their supposed reasons for pursuing the Phoenix project were bogus. We're being played. They wanted us to know about McKay."

O'Neill mentally added his own botched mission to the list of growing evidence. His decoy McKay had been transferred down to the Sonoran base too quickly for the Trust to have spent any time identifying him. He'd been transferred down to a seemingly abandoned facility, emptied of anything valuable, but clean and prepared. The Trust had to have known that their McKay was a decoy before they ever took him. Which meant that their intel was good. They had to be getting inside information. It was clear the Trust had been working several steps ahead of them. It was also pretty obvious that the Goa'uld were heavily involved, but was still just circumstance and conjecture. More evidence would be needed to convince the Security Council and the Cabinet.

Security clearance or no, O'Neill needed SG-1 to be working with all the information here. Sam and Daniel had already reached the conclusion that the Goa'uld were still deeply involved with the Trust anyway. "This may come as a surprise, but I wasn't just sleeping in this morning."

"No!" Daniel placed a hand to his chest in mock shock.

"Really?" Sam tilted her head in exaggerated consideration.

"You don't say." Teal'c pulled out one of the earth phrases he'd picked up in his years with SG-C.

"AHEM!" Beyond the now entirely obscured doorway someone loudly cleared their throat.

Mitchell and Teal'c turned sideways to make room for General Landry to address the gathering, "You know we do have a few nice big rooms with enough chairs for everyone especially for this purpose."

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	16. Deceptions

Chapter 15

Atlantis - Pegasus

A subtle scent similar to lilacs had filled Elizabeth's office in the two days since they had unexpectedly appeared on her desk. Two days since the shocking note that told her the one thing she had come to least expect, that Rodney had recognized and accepted her offer of friendship. He appreciated that she listened. After everything she'd recently learned about him, that meant a lot.

Elizabeth had almost begun to believe that she had utterly failed as a friend and misjudged the man entirely. But playing the gentle listener had been the right thing to do. Now she truly hoped he would understand and appreciate what she was going through to protect his privacy.

The Daedalus, delayed by some minor repairs following the destruction of Doranda, had finally left. Taking with it both Caldwell and Mr. Woolsey. Caldwell, to say the least, had not been pleased about leaving without completing his mission. But Caldwell's displeasure didn't hold a candle to her own displeasure when Woolsey had shared with her his suspicions that Caldwell had been harassing Rodney behind her back. A review of Atlantis' security camera's damningly confirmed this.

In a sense she could understand Caldwell's frustration. Not only did McKay not agree to be interviewed by him, but Elizabeth had forbidden him to question the rest of Atlantis' personnel in any depth, including the military personnel. It simply wouldn't have done to have suspicious questions being asked about the cities Chief Scientist. Caldwell was a military man with a mission. Still, regardless of how important Caldwell felt it was that he got that information before he left, she would not tolerate her people being bullied. There would be a complaint to that effect addressed to General Landry in Atlantis' next out-going transmission.

Mr. Woolsey, at least, had recognized the need to exercise a certain amount of restraint and respect. Impressively, he'd even managed to gain some cooperation from Rodney. Something that those he should have trusted, his friends, had failed to accomplish up until that point. As well meaning as Woolsey was, in this instance Elizabeth was glad to see the back of both he and Caldwell. That at least solved one problem.

It seemed the rule of Pegasus that as soon as one problem was solved, one more serious would rear its ugly head.

The scientist in question had now been in an isolation ward adjacent to the Med-lab for two days. Tension was mounting throughout the city. Scientists had been trailing in and out of Dr. Weir's office with feeble excuses to cover the fact that they were trying to get information about McKay. Apparently someone had seen the gurney carrying Rodney. The rumours had flown from that point onward. And, true to form, Dr. Kavanagh had taken this opportunity to create a rather sizeable headache for her to deal with.

Provided with insufficient explanation for Dr. McKay's stay in the infirmary, the people of Atlantis had turned to gossip to fill in the blanks. One of the early rumours had been that Kavanagh had struck again with yet another prank gone wrong. Needless to say he denied it vehemently, and of course sought to redirect the negative attention from himself. Thus he proclaimed that McKay had no doubt been working on his own ancient technology research which the American's wanted kept secret from the rest of the international community. Kavanagh had even neatly tied his theory with the recent visit from Caldwell and Woolsey. It was an accusation which would threaten the entire Atlantis project if enough people believed it. This could spiral into a diplomatic nightmare. And the longer the scientists of Atlantis were left without sufficient answers, the more they would become inclined to agree with Kavanagh. It didn't help that the clean-up crew had spotted and spread word about the large black scorch mark on the floor of the east tower. Kavanagh had planted a seed of contention, and Elizabeth knew that her silence was the water.

Fortunately, for the time being, most of the scientists and nearly all the military seemed to consider agreeing with Kavanagh to be a last resort. Doubts that their respective nations were not being treated fairly were not their foremost concern, yet. Of course, that only made their true concerns more difficult to satisfactorily deal with. They were worried about their colleague. No, more than colleague. Every family had that one member that was louder, more flamboyant, more difficult to manage, and more full of idiosyncrasies than any other. McKay was their's. Like him or not, they couldn't help but love him.

She wished the solution to her peoples concerns could be as simple as picking one of the rumours and confirming it, such as the one that McKay and Sheppard had accidentally set off some device. It would be like the two of them… and probably be true within the month. But there was already too much conflicting information circulating. The Science personnel especially would be too smart not to see that it didn't add up. Those who saw the gurney would know there had been no obvious sign of injury. The science staff would insist that if McKay were exposed to any sort of ancient device or radiation their expertise should be sought, as it usually was, to help him or at the very least to gather more information about whatever the device was and how it had malfunctioned.

Elizabeth turned her head to look out of her glass walled office. It was much busier than normal, and the gate room below was positively bustling. Scientists hovered around consoles and performed needless diagnostics while all too obviously glancing over their shoulders towards her office. They had appeared shortly after Dr. Zelenka had stopped the steady stream of scientists into her office asking where their head of department was and if he was alright.

The military officers were at least a bit more covert about it. But Weir had noticed certain soldiers passing through more frequently, speaking briefly with guards on duty, and the subtle droop of disappointment as they again left the gate-room with no news. Lt. Cadman had certainly taken more than her fair share of shifts standing at attention in the hall near Weir's office.

Two days without any news but that their Head of Science was stable and resting comfortably, recovering from a mysterious ailment, seemed to be more than Atlantis personnel could take.

Still, Elizabeth had understood and supported Carson's decision to keep Rodney sedated until his body chemistry had returned to as completely normal as could be. Which meant taking time to repair the damage to his sugar levels that his erratic diet over the past few weeks had caused, as well as erasing any traces of a hang-over. Considering what had happened, she had to agree that it was better to be over-cautious than under-cautious.

Carson had tried more than a few brain scans while Rodney was sleeping, but they hadn't been any help. All they told was the obvious, that Rodney was sleeping. He planned to let Rodney wake up today. After that, John had apparently convinced Rodney to agree to some tests. How cooperative a sober Rodney would be remained to be seen.

8888888888888

The first thing Rodney noticed when he began to wake wasn't the beeping of the heart monitor, or the scent of antiseptic. It wasn't even the dull pinch of an IV in his arm. Those things alone would have sent him into a panic. But they were never the first things he noticed.

The first thing he noticed was the gentle hum of Atlantis. It reminded him that he was far from Earth. This was his city. Frankly, if it came down to it he could take control of the whole place faster than it took Data to take control of the Enterprise. Not that he would, but the certainty that he could was comforting.

His eyes drifted open and towards the IV bag. Even upside-down he easily interpreted the medical jargon on the label. It was a list of nutrients, vitamins, glucose, fluids. There were no drugs, just re-hydration and energy. Why? Oh ya. He'd been drinking with Sheppard. Another bag that hung next to the fluids, but was no-longer hooked up to a tube, held the label of a mild sedative. Oh CRAP!

His eyes widened and he sat straight up as memories of everything he'd said and done came flooding back. What had he been thinking? The reality that there was no-way and no-where for him to hide now swiftly overwhelmed and replaced the comfort that had come from knowing he was in Atlantis. Oh he was so screwed.

The heart monitor picked up pace and Carson and John were on either side of him before he could think of getting up and leaving.

"McKay? Are you alright?" Leave it to John to ask a doomed man a stupid question.

The IV tore from Rodney's arm as he tried futilely to back-pedal away from both of them. In his panic he didn't even notice the pinch of pain or the blood trickling down his arm. "Alright? ALRIGHT! NO! I'm not alright! You emotionally black-mailed me and then got me drunk," Rodney sneered defensively.

With a man on either side and the wall behind there was nowhere for Rodney to go. John managed to grab hold of him before he hit his head on the wall, "Rodney! Calm down before you hurt yourself! You agreed to some tests. Remember?"

The scientist stopped trying to back into the wall but glared daggers, "I can't believe I let you get me DRUNK!"

"I can't believe you got drunk so EASILLY!" John countered, sliding into their easy way of bantering while Carson slipped in and held a gauze to McKay's arm. "I thought Canadians could hold their liquor. Especially the ones that descended from Scotland, MCKAY! Besides, you weren't going to loosen up any other way. We had to get you in here! You've got to let Carson take a look at you."

Carson narrowed his eyes slightly at John for the Scottish generalization, never-mind that he fitted it, before tying a bandage tightly around the gauze he'd been applying. He ignored the plaintive 'ow' as Rodney snatched his arm back. "Aye lad, he's right. I know ye don't like it but you've got t'see reason."

Despondent acceptance took hold of Rodney as he looked at the determination in the eyes of the two men he'd almost dared to think of as friends. Caldwell was right. Whether here or on earth there was no way the military would ever let this lie. Experimentation, progress, evolution; they were the ways of science. Who was he to hold it back? Scientific progress was almost always turned towards military purposes first. This was simply the way the world worked.

It was cold logic. Balancing the facts, the need, weighed against the costs it only made sense. Using him would be the fastest, easiest way to ensure success given modern technological and medical progress and that it had already worked on him.

Rodney had always found it curiously poetic – the way living in a world that was so cold had taught the Inuit to wrap themselves in that very cold to create their own warmth. Well fine. Carson wanted him to see reason? He'd see reason. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn't just dissect me in my sleep," he bit out sarcastically.

Beckett probably would have huffed and rolled his eyes at McKay's typically melodramatic attitude towards anything to do with medicine. At least, he would have if McKay hadn't been acting for the past few weeks like he really did think Beckett would gleefully dissect him and sell the parts in the name of science.

Searching the physician's eyes, Rodney could see the genuine pain caused by his words. "Look Carson. I understand. It's unavoidable now. I don't blame you. I know things are desperate, between the Wraith here and the Priors back in the Milky Way. I know you probably think it's selfish of me to hold back research that could fix everything. If it had to be anyone I'm glad at least it's you…"

"Stop right there. Ye worse than blame me!" The Scott's tone was sharp with anger, "What the bloody hell has gotten into that head of yours?"

Rodney stared at Carson in a mixture of disbelief and surprise, "You don't intend to recreate the project?"

"NO!" Carson waved his clipboard in exasperation, "How could ye think that?"

"It's realism." Rodney stated it as an indisputable fact that was easily backed up, "You heard what Colonel Caldwell said to Elizabeth about Arcturus. No way in hell the military would let it go un-pursued. This is no different. If it's not you it will be someone else Carson. And honestly, I'd much rather it be you. You're the best there is. You do experimental research all the time."

Carson balked. Could Rodney really be that jaded? "Not like that Rodney! Human experimentation of that kind is illegal, and with good reason!"

Rodney rolled his eyes. Could Carson really be that naïve? "Even if the law made a difference when issues of such magnitude are at stake, it's all fine out here in Pegasus! Isn't it!"

The candid certainty with which Rodney gave his bleak prognosis of reality sent a sick shiver down Carson's spine. "Alright then, never-mind that experimentation of that kind is illegal, I'd never be involved in it even if it was allowed! Even the military and the pentagon have decided that it isn't viable because it isn't humane! Honestly, Rodney! If ye'd just told us all about it from the beginning, ye must have known somewhere in yer muddled mind we'd never support experimentation of that kind, even voluntary. Even if ye have such a low opinion of me, once it was understood what had been done of course the Pentagon didn't consider repeating it! It would never be allowed. It could never happen!"

"How can you say that when it HAS happened?" Rodney insisted all the more vehemently. Expressive blue eyes burned with long suppressed anger and resentment, stunning his two well-meaning friends long enough for Rodney to escape the bed and begin to pace agitatedly.

It was then John recalled that the CIA had thought a branch of the military had carried out the experiments with high level authority. All completely legitimately if a bit secretively. Not unlike the StarGate program. So of course Rodney thought the same thing. John took his pacing genius by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, "No, Rodney. It didn't. What was done to you wasn't authorized and it wasn't legal. It was done by an earlier version of the Trust, illegally, and in secret from all of the rest of the Government."

"That's impossible," Rodney insisted as he jerked away.

"No, it's not. It's the truth." John repeated patiently.

"No, it's not. It can't be." The pacing picked up where it had left off, "It's completely impossible. There were points when I could see what they were thinking, and everything they knew. They were working with complete PRESIDENTIAL authorization and knowledge."

"And they all heard that directly from the President? Did they?" John watched as the pacing stuttered and stopped, "Use your head, McKay. Think about it. They knew you would be able to pick information out of people's heads. Do you think they would have had anyone around you who knew things they didn't want you to know about? They would have fed information they wanted you to believe into the heads of anyone they were going to let near you."

Rodney placed a steadying hand on the wall as the truth of Sheppard's words sunk in. The lies that had sheltered him melted away and the icy blast of reality hit. He'd been hiding from the wrong people. In the Pentagon he'd been working along-side Maybourne and God knows how many other members of the Trust without even knowing it! And all along they had been responsible. They'd probably known. They'd been watching him and…

"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was edged with concern. He'd been sounding that way a lot lately.

"It was the Trust?" Rodney needlessly asked for the confirmation.

"Pretty much. It was a subversive group within the government that later became the driving force behind the Trust, combining with rogue elements in the NID," Sheppard explained.

Carson wondered if they'd gone a bit too far, too quickly, when Rodney closed his eyes, his head rested against the wall, and remained silent for some moments. "Are ye alright lad?"

"I really have been an idiot," Rodney whispered without lifting his head.

Sheppard shrugged uncomfortably. He really wasn't good at this sort of thing, "I'm sure anyone would have thought and done the same things if they were in the same situation. Admittedly that would be very unlikely. Really unlikely. Actually, it's kinda hard to guess what anyone else would have done. But I understand why you did what you did. Well, as much as anyone can understand given how unusual the circumstances are. It's sort of hard to relate to but…"

"Thank you," McKay mercifully if impatiently interrupted, "I think I get it."

"I think I understand now why ye thought what ye did." Carson added. "But will ye let me help ye now? No holding anything back?"

Rodney finally lifted his head to regard the two men, his head still reeling from assimilating all the new information. After everything he'd done to push them away, still these two men regarded him with open concern. It wasn't a pitying concern. McKay's pride never would have accepted that. He recalled distantly that it was the sort of concern he'd once felt for Jeannie, and she'd once felt for him. God he missed her. How would she have reacted if he'd actually sent the recording of his jumbled last words before the Wraith attack last year? Would she have thought that he was fabricating it, as his parents had thought he'd fabricated his abductors?

Carson stepped forward cautiously, his hands outstretched as though he were trying not to spook a cornered animal, "It doesn't matter what ye can and can't do. We're here to help. That's all."

"No strings attached," Sheppard added.

He'd heard it before, 'We're here to help.' But for the first time in many years Rodney felt able to believe it. He'd said in the video he'd never sent that he thought he'd found a family. Now he knew he had. A weight he'd been carrying so long he'd stopped noticing lifted. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he now looked openly at his two friends. "Oh, very well then. Mix your tea leaves. Prepare your goat entrails, and let's get on with it. I can only imagine what's happened to the labs in my absence. We're lucky the city hasn't sunk."

Carson and Sheppard stared at Rodney for a moment as the gentle snark sunk in, then grinned at each-other. They'd gotten through.

"No trying to run away! You agreed to it sober this time. AND there's a witness." John teased as Carson immediately took Rodney by the arm and guided him back towards the bed.

"Aye, that's right. So get back on the damn bed! Colonel Sheppard tells me ye've been exhibiting symptoms of probable relapse since arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy." Carson frowned seriously but refrained from giving the lecture he so obviously wanted to give.


	17. Prognosis

Chapter 16

-Between Galaxies -

_Hummmmm, tick, hummmmm, tock, hummmmmm, tick, hummmmmm, tock. _

The steady hum of the machinery that surrounded and sustained the occupants of the Daedalus was distracting. Richard Woolsey did his best to ignore the hum while he re-read the mission reports from earth and a few updates on various other NID assignments that took place during his absence. The attempt was failing.

The incessant ticking of the alarm clock someone had loaned him wasn't helping either. They'd claimed that the familiar sound from earth had helped them feel more grounded in the space ship. It wasn't working.

He also tried not to think of the total silence that must fill the vacuum outside the Daedalus. He tried very hard not to think about the fact that a spaceship had a finite supply of oxygen.

This assignment 'sucked', as the younger generation would say. But he didn't choose this assignment because it would be fun. He chose it because it needed to be done and he was the man with the passion to see it through. Except that now he'd learned that McKay's particular case had nothing to do with irresponsible management of Top Secret Military funding and programming. It had everything to do with irresponsible citizens deciding that it wasn't enough to simply monitor government programs on behalf of the electorate. They wanted to decide what was best for the country regardless of what the electorate or the law had to say about it. It had everything to do with outright treason.

It was bad enough that people like that had infected virtually every level of government from the CIA to the Pentagon. But that the largest portion of the infection found its bed, and its source, in the NID made him ashamed. The very organization that was trusted by the people to make certain that the Military did not forget who it was they served, had lost its own focus. Or at least certain members had. That was a bleak prognosis indeed.

Richard didn't really consider himself to be a religious person, but he'd grown up going to Sunday School. As a consequence, on occasion a verse or lesson would come to his mind, unbidden. Today it was 'take the plank of wood out of your own eye before you take the speck of wood out of someone else's'. Perhaps it was time he turned some of his investigative powers towards the NID itself.

It was something to think about during the journey home to earth. They would be reaching the edge of communications range with Pegasus shortly. Then they'd be in the expansion between Galaxies, out of communication with either Earth or Pegasus for a short time, then in communication with Earth alone. He tried not to think about the emptiness of the space between Galaxies, and instead turned his attention to the folder that had been sitting on his desk all morning. It was his final report on the mission, to be reviewed co-signed, and combined with Colonel Caldwell's report.

He wondered if the Captain of the Daedalus had noticed that he'd been avoiding him since the ship left Atlantis. More to the point, Richard wondered if Caldwell knew that it was he who had tipped of Dr. Weir about his suspected and now confirmed misuse of the sensory depravation chamber to intimidate Dr. McKay. That hadn't been what Woolsey had brought it for. It was purely to be a psychological tool to help McKay remember if it came to that and if he were willing to try. It hadn't come to that.

He also wondered how the seemingly emotionless, calculating, Captain of the Daedalus would respond to the portion of the report where Woolsey pointedly disapproved of his attitude towards the mission. The Colonel's eagerness to drop the matter of the Phoenix project in favour of developing the Ancient weapon had proven where his priorities really lay. His interest in McKay was purely his military uses and that just wasn't in the spirit of the Presidents orders. It was safe to assume that the Colonel wouldn't like that part of the report.

In addition, the cool and calculating look in those eyes was just creepy. It was like something human was missing. What military experiences produced that sort of man?

Woolsey thought all this as he looked at the folder on the corner of his desk.

_Hummmmm, tick, hummmmm, tock, hummmmmm, tick, hummmmmm, tock. _

Annoyance soon overwhelmed his trepidation. It was foolish to be intimidated by Colonel Caldwell. He'd served Five Star General's with investigation orders without batting an eyelash. He could submit one unflattering report to Colonel Caldwell. Even if he were a Star Ship Captain and they were isolated in the middle of space. After all, what could he do? Make Richard walk the plank?

He drew around him the shield of confidence that had helped him face the Five Star Generals, picked up the folder, and turned to take it straight to Caldwell. No more putting it off. As an after thought he grabbed the ticking clock off his desk. He'd return that first.

"Ah, Sergeant," he stopped one of the men passing in front by his quarters, pausing only to read the man's nametag, "Sergeant Freeman. Do you know where I might find Colonel Caldwell?"

The big man grinned a broad, friendly smile, "Sure thing! He's in his office. I'm just coming from there now. I'll show you the way."

"That's alright Sergeant. I wouldn't want to take you from your duties," Woolsey smiled in gratefully in return. His reputation tended to precede him in the military, making it extremely rare to receive such a warm greeting from any military officer, ever.

The attempt to refuse the offered help only proved to broaden the friendly Sergeant's smile. "It's no trouble!"

A rough clap on the shoulder caused Woolsey to stutter forward a few steps as Freeman steered him towards Caldwell's office.

The niggling feeling that there was something 'off' about Caldwell nagged at Woolsey until his habit for digging for answers won out, "So, What's it like working under the command of someone like Colonel Caldwell?"

Within minutes Richard found himself missing the customary cold shoulder he received from military personnel. This man, as personable as he was, would not shut up about how incredible Colonel Caldwell was.

Mercifully, the space on the ship was as finite as the oxygen supply and he was soon left at the door to Caldwell's office.

"Mr. Woolsey," Caldwell observed with a friendly half smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I was beginning to wonder if we'd lost you out an air lock."

That settled the question of whether his absence had been noticed. "Yes, well I've been busy with some paper-work. Speaking of which, here's my report."

Caldwell accepted the proffered file and perused it casually, "I see you disagree with some of the finer points of my investigative method."

"I should think I made it obvious from the beginning that McKay was not to be intimidated into helping us." Woolsey lifted his chin as he spoke. Why did everyone else have to be so damn tall?

Surprisingly, Caldwell let out a light chuckle and leaned casually against his door frame, as though there were nothing at all serious about this blatant disobedience of the Presidents orders. "Mr. Woolsey, you're a sensible man. Wouldn't you agree that McKay is a naturally nervous, even jittery man, at times?"

"Well yes, in my limited experience of him I suppose when he's faced with a stressful situation he can be…" Woolsey began to form his answer but was soon cut off by Caldwell.

"The man is a nervous wreck. Don't you think it's possible that I didn't intend to upset him that way and it just happened?" Caldwell's tone was that of a reasoning man. Both eyebrows raised silently as though to punctuate his point before continuing, "Now, I'll admit that allowing McKay to see that chamber thing may have been poor judgement on my part. I just didn't want him to be surprised by it later when he was repairing a jumper or something. I should have expected he would react strongly. But you can't really think I did that to him purposefully."

Well, if he put it that way it sounded like a rather reasonable mistake to make. Realizing that his work must be making him paranoid, Woolsey blushed and looked away, feeling embarrassed. "Uh, yes. Actually that makes perfect sense."

The file that had been sitting on the corner of his desk for so many days was offered back with a knowing smile, "Then I expect you'll want to go over this again."

"A few edits might be in order," Woolsey agreed and accepted the file, "I owe you an apology for assuming the worst case scenario."

A hand waved dismissively, "You were just being diligent. I probably would have thought the same thing in your place. If there's nothing else, I should be getting back to my own paperwork."

"Of course. I'll be getting back to my own paperwork then," Woolsey waved the file awkwardly as he backed away.

The door to Caldwell's office swished closed, the Goa'uld within him practically quivering with rage. Having to reason with these lowly creatures was demeaning. No matter. With any luck, his assignment would be over soon. Once it had become obvious that the Pentagon would never agree to experiment on McKay in the way necessary to get the information needed, his masters had wasted no time in sending a cloaked scout-ship with new orders. Smiling maliciously, he turned back to the female Atlantean scientist standing silently in the corner. He allowed his eyes to glow at her, and she bowed her head in submission. Human minds were so easy to bend and break. It was a shame they needed McKay's mind intact.

Richard Woolsey settled back at his desk to being rewriting his report, making note in the edge of the old one that he should speak with Dr. Weir again as well. Surely he'd be able to concentrate now that he'd gotten rid of that damn clock.

_Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…_

He found he missed the clock.

8888888888888888888

-Atlantis-

A heavy silence hung in the air of the waiting room. Unable to get any work done in her office, and tired of the intrusive glances and outright stares coming from the direction of the control room, Elizabeth had decided go down to the infirmary waiting room. She really shouldn't have been surprised to find Teyla and Ronon already there. They'd had questions, which of course she had not been able to answer to their satisfaction. Eventually they had stopped asking for information. Teyla now sat in silence staring at a fixed point on the wall, her brow furrowed in worry. Ronon, however, glared accusingly in Dr. Weir's direction. So Elizabeth glared back with confidence and determination, her back ridged. She wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there like that. But her back was getting quite sore.

The tension in the waiting room actually sharpened when the door leading to the infirmary opened and admitted Carson.

"Sorry to keep ye waiting," he said lightly. But his shoulders were heavy and his eyes were tired.

Ronon immediately crossed the small room to confront the physician with a growl. "What happened to McKay?"

"Um," Carson squeaked, "He's doing fine. Wide awake. Go on in. I'll let him explain what he wishes."

The tired physician managed to hop spryly out of Ronon's way as the imposing man swept into the infirmary. "He's in a side room. A nurse will show ye the way." Carson called after him.

"Thank-you, Dr. Beckett." Teyla bowed her head in the Athosian manner before calmly walking past the physician and after Ronon.

"Yer welcome Lass," Beckett replied tiredly after she'd gone. He turned to the one person remaining in the room. "I expect ye'd like to have a wee talk before ye go in."

"I expect I would." Elizabeth managed a smile.

"Ronon!" Teyla's exhasperated voice drifted out of the infirmary, "Let the nurse go. Rodney is this way."

The expedition leader and the medical leader both winced and waited a few a moments. When they heard no cries for help Carson continued, "The good news is, aside that he seems perfectly healthy, is I didn't have to strap him down."

"Good." Elizabeth allowed herself a small sigh of relief before asking, "What did the scans tell you once he was awake?"

Beckett looked as though he'd been dreading that question, "Only that he's awake, and perfectly healthy if a bit stressed."

"That's all?" Elizabeth expected it would have been rather obvious now that all was not normal within Rodney McKay.

"I'm afraid so." Beckett's tone remained apologetic, "It's not really that surprising. If whatever is happening were that easy to detect I'd have caught it long before now. I'd expect that the only way I'll be able to get anything on a brain scan is if he happens to be using the abilities at the time as the scan."

"But there must be something, Carson. A normal healthy Rodney shouldn't be blowing up bits of glass with his mind." Elizabeth made a frustrated gesture as she spoke.

Carson sighed his agreement, "Aye. And that's not the half of it. He's not without certain lasting side-effects, to say the least. It will take time to determine just how far-reaching they are. He's been experiencing, for lack of a better term, relapses for some time now."

"Relapses?" Weir repeated the word, wondering what exactly 'relapses' entailed for this sort of thing, and equally importantly, "For how long?"

"Virtually since arriving in Pegasus." A bit of the physicians own anger at this slipped into his tone, "and by relapses I mean basic psychic impressions."

"Do we have any idea what might have triggered these relapses?" Elizabeth made a mental note to ask more about what exactly the relapses entailed later.

"Aye." The pursed his lips and paused as though this were the difficult thing he'd been building up to saying, "I'm afraid it's the gene therapy."

"The gene therapy!" Elizabeth's voice rose in alarm. Half the members in the expedition had the gene therapy, "How?"

With the initial confession out of the way, Carson relaxed minimally as he explained, "We don't fully understand how ATA works. Up until now it's been enough that it does. We're working with medical sciences far beyond our own here."

"I understand that." Elizabeth forced a calm she didn't feel into her voice, "What can you tell me?"

"We know that Ancient Technology Activation is caused by a single dominant gene. It instructs the body to produce a certain combination of enzymes and proteins that somehow interact with the brain and the nervous system. I think that these enzymes are taking the place of the chemicals that were used to treat McKay as a child.

"Half the people on this expedition have successfully undergone the gene therapy. Why haven't they shown these symptoms?" She silently prayed that they wouldn't. The last thing Atlantis needed was for her scientists to have even more ways to blow up things.

"Rodney underwent extensive and complex treatments to initially activate the areas of his brain that govern these abilities. Even with the discontinuation of the drug therapy there had to have been some long-term effects. The human brain just can't be turned on and off like a light bulb. The ATA enzymes have interacted with the long-term effects of those initial treatments to produce a slightly different series of effects."

"Different how?" It seemed to Elizabeth that every answer Carson gave her only lead to ten more questions.

"I wish I could say clearly." Carson let out a frustrated sigh that told her Carson was as frustrated with the number of questions and lack of answers as she. "Rodney tells me it's different in a great many ways that I couldn't possibly understand."

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at that, "That sounds like our Rodney."

"Aye," The physician shared a rueful smile. "That it does. More tests will be required, and even then I'm afraid only time will tell. It seems that, for the most part, what little extra-sensory ability he has is limited to ancients and similar energy beings. Even then he tells me he doesn't pick up clear thoughts as in the original experiment. Only emotions. The lack of such beings on Atlantis will make it difficult to test… if not impossible. But for an example, do ye remember Chaya?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened with realization as she recalled Rodney's behaviour during that whole ordeal, "I can't believe he didn't tell us that!"

"In his defence," Carson added grudgingly, "He did try bloody hard to convince us all there was something off about that girl."

"I suppose," Elizabeth admitted, but looked nonetheless annoyed. "You mentioned similar beings?"

"Aye. That great black energy eating monstrosity," Carson spoke calmly, but a small vein had appeared on the left side of his forehead.

"Oh." Was all Elizabeth could come out with as an image of Rodney laying unconscious on the control room floor flooded into her mind.

"Aye, Oh." Beckett agreed. He had no doubt what Elizabeth was remembering.

They sat in silence a few moments, rethinking his behaviour on those occasions and second guessing others, before Elizabeth decided it was time for another pertinent question. "Have you considered reversing the gene therapy?"

Carson shook his head, "It isn't possible, I'm afraid. Certainly not safely. Using a retro-virus to add specific genetic information is completely different than taking it away. I wouldn't know where to begin to create a virus that would target and destroy specific genetic material. The risk that it would attack the wrong genes or additional genes would be enormous."

"That's not an option then." Elizabeth wasn't even sure she could have asked it of him if it was possible. Ancient technology was Rodney's life now. It would have been like cutting off his hands. "So, how much do we know about what he's actually capable of?"

"We still know very little." Carson was loath to admit it. It seemed to him they'd been struggling for ages to get into a position to help Rodney, only to find that he was virtually powerless to do a thing. Even the ancient scanners, as much as he had learned to use them so far, showed nothing that he wouldn't find in a scan of Sheppard's brain or even his own. And so he relied on old fashioned questioning to determine and interpret symptoms. "He tells me he has no control over it, which he tells me is different from before. His telekinesis is another matter entirely. We've not been able to test the telekinesis. We're reluctant, as I'm sure ye can understand, given what happened in the east tower. Any physical condition which negatively impacts mental concentration, ranging it would seem from exhaustion to drunkenness, seems to result in both extreme pain and loss of control should he attempt telekinetic activity. Specifically, loss of control of the faculties commanding the telekinesis should he attempt to use it. Additionally, as we don't know what the scope of his abilities in that regard are we really have no way of knowing what level of telekinetic activity would strain or exhaust him. I think we should assume that it wouldn't take much, at least as far as intentional focussed use is concerned."

A subtle emphasis on the word intentional caught Elizabeth's ear, "Is there any other kind?"

Carson took a deep breath and motioned for Elizabeth to sit back down as he took the seat beside her. He'd intentionally left the worst bits of his prognosis for last. "I wish I could say there wasn't, but these abilities can be forcibly triggered. From what he tells me the risk of this is minimal. A specific set of very unlikely conditions would have to take place. Namely, total sensory depravation over a prolonged period of time, accompanied by exhaustion caused by extensive forced use of his abilities.

The drug therapy he was put through worked to somehow forcefully stimulate and maintain stimulation in certain areas of his brain. But only when combined with sensory deprivation, as in the tank they held him in, are the artificially stimulated areas forced to become active."

Anger boiled in Elizabeth as she listened. This flew in the face of every human rights convention that was worth anything. It was disgusting in any country, regardless of what treaties they'd signed. And it had happened right in her own country. She looked up at Carson when he paused, and realized that he must be letting her soak in the information. "Continue," she ordered.

Carson nodded, understanding that the anger wasn't directed at him. "If left exhausted and directionless in those conditions his mind, and consequently the focus of his abilities, would remain active and drift inward. From there, I confess I didn't quite understand what he was saying. Something about looking at something that was never meant to be seen, and the act of it bringing it here and such… But he compared it to not knowing what an atom was and accidentally splitting it."

Elizabeth swallowed, schooling her expression and forcing her emotions down. "Is that what happened in the desalination tank?

"Somewhat," Carson nodded, "But not quite," and he prepared for another long-winded explanation. "Perhaps because of the ATA enzymes interaction with the nervous system as well as the brain, the trigger for his telekinesis now has more of an emotional component. It's possible it can activate even without cognitive awareness given the right circumstances.The desalination tank created conditions similar to the sensory depravation chamber. Because of his extended isolation his subconscious mind turned inward, as past experience no doubt has predisposed it to do quite readily I'd imagine. His emotional agitation translated into molecular agitation directed towards the tank walls, eventually producing enough heat that they began to melt and further short-circuit.But his conscious mind remained focussed. His 'wide open spaces' chant probably helped."

"I don't understand. You say he can burn things and blow things up without wanting to or being aware of it and yet you say he's not a danger?" Elizabeth hated to question it, but she had a responsibility.

"As I said, specific and unlikely conditions would be required. The only way I foresee a problem is if he finds himself in that very specific situation again. I don't think it's vera' likely we'll find very many specially built chambers. It's perfectly avoidable." Confidence on that point radiated from Carson.

But Elizabeth wasn't so sure, "You say unlikely, but not impossible."

A bare hint of an eye-roll crossed Carson's features before he caught himself and settled on a scolding smirk that said she should know better, "Forgive me for being blunt, Elizabeth, but we're in another Galaxy with life-sucking alien vampires. At this point I wouldn't say it's impossible that a team will come back through the gate suffering lycanthropy! And let's be honest. Rodney has a great many more likely ways of accidentally blowing something up. We've never had a problem living with that particular hazard before."

Despite the severity of the situation Elizabeth found-herself smirking at both the imagery and her own fallacy. She had been letting the strangeness of the situation cloud her judgement. "Well, when you put it that way, you have a point."

"I'm glad ye agree," Carson admonished all too cheerfully. "I expect he'll be up and about in the labs some time tomorrow."

A bemused, knowing, expression crossed Elizabeth's face as she pursed her lips at the Doctor. She knew there was no point in questioning Carson's decision if he was that confident Rodney could handle it. And, after-all, Rodney had been doing exceptional work on this program for nearly two years now, in this condition. Nothing seemed to indicate that would change now. "I'm sure Dr. Zelenka will be relieved to know that Dr. McKay will be back soon."

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	18. Mutiny

Dr. Miko Kusanagi kept her eyes studiously on her computer monitor as Dr's Kavanagh and Zelenka argued not far behind her. Their voices had been steadily rising. She could hear that others in the room had stopped their work and were watching the clash with interest. Though she tried to focus on her work, Miko kept finding herself clenching and unclenching her hands as she listened.

"I tell you already. I do not know what is wrong with Dr. McKay or when he will be available. Perhaps you can ask him when he is better. In the meantime his decisions stand. You do not have authorization to begin this experiment and I will not give it at this time." Dr. Zelenka sounded very upset.

"Then when will McKay be 'available' and when will you be ready? Is our work supposed to just stop because the 'Great McKay' isn't available?" Miko could hear the derisive sneer in Dr. Kavanagh's voice as he spoke. His words were manipulative. The truth was that everyone had projects to be working on, including him, and Dr McKay's unavailability would not hold those ones back. Dr. Kavanagh was trying to abuse this situation to go around Dr. McKay. Miko was glad that Dr. Zelenka would not allow it.

"I grow tired of repeating myself," Dr. Zelenka's voice was tight with impatience and his accent was growing thicker with each word.

But Dr. Kavanagh was showing no signs of backing down. That man gave no respect but expected much, "I grow tired of my work and my position here not receiving the respect it deserves. You're with-holding information, and so is he. I can smell it. So what is it, huh? Was McKay hurt by a weapon none of our countries are supposed to know about? Or is it something for that precious Nobel prize he's so desperate for he'd risk all our lives to get it?!"

"You smell something? I tell you what smells!" Outrage was clear in Zelenka's tone now, and Miko found herself agreeing. Everyone knew that Dr. McKay had brought Dr. Kavanagh back to the Atlantis base. Almost immediately afterward, Dr. McKay had fallen mysteriously ill. That Dr. Kavanagh had said so many ill things of Dr. McKay since then, when Dr. McKay could not defend himself, was very upsetting.

"Oh, very mature." Dr. Kavanagh interrupted whatever else Dr. Zelenka had been going to say. "I, for one, will be in the commissary until we get a real explanation."

"Good!" Dr. Zelenka called after the retreating back of Dr. Kavanagh, "Stay there as long as you like. Then maybe I can get work done without you pestering me with question I do not have the answer to and that are none of your business."

Dr. Zelenka muttered a few choice phrases in Czech as he returned to where his own lap-top was set up beside Miko's. "He is back two days and already he will use any excuse for a vacation."

Miko turned to offer a comforting smile to Dr. Zelenka, but instead felt her jaw drop and her eyes widen. She stood and watched as all but a few of the core scientists packed up their stations and walked out to join Dr. Kavanagh.

When she turned back to Dr. Zelenka he still hadn't turned around but wore a defeated look that made her wince in sympathy, "They've all gone, haven't they?"

"Not all…" Miko offered.

"Dr. Weir will not pleased," Dr. Zelenka observed with a small sigh. Miko had often noticed that he would go out of his way to impress Dr. Weir. She didn't think it was because she was the mission leader.

As if on queue, Dr. Zelenka's radio flared to life at that moment, 'Dr. Zelenka? This is Dr. Weir. Come in please.'

Dr. Zelenka jumped and fumbled his radio. He sounded frazzled by the time he picked it up again and answered, "Dr. Weir. I'm here."

'I thought you'd like to know that Rodney will be back to work as usual some-time tomorrow.' Dr. Weir's tone held a wary concern, and the hint of a question. She had caught the frazzled sound in Dr. Zelenka's voice.

Dr. Zelenka pursed his lips at the unspoken question, he had to tell her now, "That is good, but I am afraid we have a situation."

'What sort of situation?'

Dr. Zelenka closed his eyes miserably as he answered, "A mutiny."

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Only on-duty military members of Atlantis now wandered or patrolled the ancient city. They were doing their best not to interfere with the apparent strike that the scientists had decided on. Unless a member of the command team ordered action they intended to stay well away from that. It was a running joke and lasting wisdom among the military that there are three categories of people that one should never cross the bad side of if it can be avoided; your wife, your mother-in-law, and civilian scientists on a civilian led mission.

As things stood now, the commissary was being given a wide berth. With that many angry scientists in one room something was bound to blow, probably literally.

It was tense. And quiet. If people spoke at all it was a whisper, as though anything louder would set off the bomb.

Then, a familiar sound broke through the tension.

"I cannot BELIEVE you didn't tell me what was happening IMMEDIATELY!"

"I didn't know! I've been busy with YOU. Besides. I can't believe you didn't tell Ronon and Teyla everything!

"They don't need to know!"

"It's Ronon and Teyla!"

"Conan and Xena wouldn't understand it all anyway!"

"It's RONON and TEYLA!"

"Would you please not raise your voice! I'd like to maintain SOME privacy if you don't mind!"

"You are un-be-lievable!"

The two bickering friends seemed oblivious to the elated stares of people as they stormed past, intent on reaching to commissary as soon as possible.

By the time they reached the commissary the argument showed no signs of slowing. Lt. Cadman turned from where she'd been standing guard, aka eavesdropping on the scientists, and grinned.

"You know what?" Rodney sniped, "Sheppard really doesn't suit you. I think Col. Pitbull is far more apt."

"Go ahead Rodney, say all you like about me. I don't mind. You know why? Because I know that you're going to get it when Carson finds out you left the infirmary!" Col. Sheppard pointed out smugly.

"Ha! You're going to get it too!" Rodney pointed back.

It was obvious they weren't going to notice her on their own so Cadman broke in at the slight ebb in their flow, "Rodney!"

Rodney turned to her and blanched, speechless for a moment, "L-lt. uh Cadman. We were just, we were just…"

Cadman and Sheppard both rolled their eyes. Rodney just couldn't seem to stop being freaked out by that whole shared body thing. Taking time to get used to the idea was one thing, but this was just silly.

"Going in there?" Cadman finished for him and motioned to the commissary.

"Yes, of course." Rodney looked at the door a moment but didn't move.

"You haven't figured out what to say yet, have you?" Sheppard prodded verbally, still miffed at Rodney having the last word before they were interrupted.

Rodney just pulled a glare at him.

"Why don't you just tell them the truth, Rodney? I'm sure it's not that big a deal." Cadman offered.

McKay just tilted his head toward her and gave her a look that said that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard in his life, "Oh, you're sure, are you? And what's that? Women's intuition?"

Cadman narrowed her eyes in return. Women's intuition? She was only trying to be helpful. Fine then, this was now war. "You forget I've been in your head, Rodney. I already know your biggest secret."

Realization struck Sheppard like a bolt of lightening. Of course that's why McKay was so freaked out by Cadman. "You do?" Sheppard cut in with a teasing grin before McKay could panic and give away more than he intended, "You haven't been holding back valuable information I hope?"

Cadman leaned forward conspiratorially, "Only that deep down under all that catty sarcasm he's really just a cuddly kitten."

"Catty!?" McKay gaped at her.

"C'mon McKay," Sheppard nudged McKay's shoulder as he spoke, "Beckett is gonna flip as it is. No more dawdling."

"I cannot believe she just called me catty!" Rodney continued to gripe.

"Well you like to play with string theory, don't you?" Sheppard poked.

McKay groaned, "You know that was terrible, right? Please don't ever repeat it."

888888888888888888888888888

Kavanagh stood at the head of Atlantis' Commissary arguing loudly with Dr. Weir. She had arrived some time ago to address the scientists and ask them why they had left their duties. Kavanagh had taken it upon himself to speak for all of them. Radek and the few scientists whom had elected to remain at their posts stood with her. She'd wanted all of them present for the settling of this dispute.

The more Kavanagh spoke, Elizabeth had been observing, the more annoyed those scientists who had elected to join him looked. To Elizabeth's diplomatic eye it seemed that most had had their own reasons for demanding more information. It was a good sign. If this many people had actually been ready to believe that scientific data was being with-held it would have meant trouble for the expedition.

As it was now, Elizabeth was content to let Kavanagh keep talking himself into this hole. She was placing her bets on the crowd getting fed up enough to voice what the real issue was and take Kavanagh down a notch for her.

"C'mon!" Kavanagh sneered and blustered, "Everyone knows McKays in the American's pocket. McKay's worked more for the American's than for any other country."

Kavanagh then did the best thing he could have for Elizabeth. He turned to one the crowd members, gesturing to where the Canadian Technician from the gate-room had just entered, at Elizabeth's invitation, "How does it feel knowing that your Country doesn't really have a fair representative on the science team?"

Elizabeth just smiled encouragingly and nodded her assent for the man to answer as he pleased. The man looked surprised at the question, "He requisitioned supplies of Tim Horton's coffee to be distributed to Canadian personnel on Canada day just this year. That's good enough for me."

Kavanagh stared at him in disbelief, "He's the most obnoxious, conceited man in the entire city and he insults you on a regular basis, and he bought you with Coffee?"

The Canadian looked at Kavanagh as though he had his head on backwards, "It was Tim Horton's."

A few heads with Canadian flag patches attached to their arms nodded agreement.

"What the hell is going on in here?" The voice of one irate science team leader echoed through the room. Even Elizabeth jumped at the tone.

The entire room stared as the man many of them had feared the worst for stormed to the head of the room. Behind him, a trail of military personnel were gathering around the doorway, "I have a full docket of research that's been put on hold for what? Hmm? You do realize how much is depending on this research, don't you? What is so important that you think it's worth risking all our lives and the lives of everyone in TWO galaxies? Hmm?"

Kavanagh was the first to recover. He pointed an accusing finger at McKay, "You've been in the infirmary for two days without any explanation! What were you doing that has to be kept secret from us?"

Rodney rounded on Kavanagh with a deadly calm that was more startling than his boisterous entrance, "How is that your business?"

"You're head of the Science Department!" Kavanagh squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes.

Rodney squared back, "Oh? So I don't get doctor -patient confidentiality?"

"We have a right to full disclosure of all information related to the Atlantis Project." Kavanagh countered.

Rodney just rolled his eyes and turned dismissively from him to the crowd, "I cannot believe how out of hand this has gotten! Alright! Fine! If you're all so sure you have a right to know my personal affairs, I had a hang-over. I'm not much of a drinker. There! Happy now?"

It was Kavanagh's turn to roll his eyes, "For two days!?"

"You have Beckett to thank for that. He gave me a little too much of the good stuff to help sleep it off." Rodney folded his arms as though daring anyone to poke a hole in his explanation.

A quiet murmuring drifted through the room as the scientists discussed the plausibility of the explanation. Sheppard caught a few whispers of, 'Beckett probably couldn't stand the complaining anymore.' And, 'it makes sense not wanting to publicize a leader getting plastered…maybe.'

"What about the scorch marks?" One of the scientists piped up.

"Oh please!" Rodney gestured expansively and heaved a laboured sigh, "Everyone in this room listen up! Raise your hand if you have NEVER blown something up when drunk."

Elizabeth looked around the room and noted that frighteningly few hands were raised. She might have to discuss this with Major Lorne.

Kavanagh folded his arms and practically snarled, "You don't really expect us to believe that!"

Rodney raised his hands in the air in exasperation, "You want a conspiracy theory Kavanagh? Fine! A secret organization abducted me as a child, gave me super mutant powers which mis-fired two nights ago– causing the explosion and placing me in the care of Dr. Beckett. As well as make random things explode for no apparent reason I can divine the will of the ancestors and make things float. All of this I've managed to keep secret even while working with the Pentagon, Area 51, and the StarGate program. Of course, I had a little help from the CIA, who kindly erased my short lived career as a super-villain. Did I ever tell you about my secret lab under the volcano?"

A few chuckles rippled through the audience, while Kavanagh just turned red at being made fun of.

But McKay was anything but laughing, his expression grew darker with each word to come and the room grew quiet, "Now I am only going to say this once. There is no Atlantean related research taking place in this city that is being kept from your governments. You have had full disclosure in that regard. I have a few personal papers that are none of your business. Consider them a hobby. If I ever think they'd be of use to our work here you'll be the first to know. I'm feeling generous today. So I'm going to give you one minute, starting now, to end this little mutiny and get back to work. In return, I'll act as though this never happened."

For a heart beat everyone stared at him then looked to each-other for guidance.

"54 seconds, 53 seconds, 52…"

Kavanagh gawked as the room was cleared in half a second. He turned and glowered at McKay, "I'm on to you McKay. Something is definitely not right about you."

"30 seconds, 29, 28, 27."

Kavanagh stormed swiftly from the room without another word.

Not until only Sheppard and Elizabeth remained did he let his guard fall and he dropped into the nearest chair.

Elizabeth just looked at him. That had been an eye-opening experience to say the least. He'd blown in here out of no-where while she'd been in the middle of trying to fix the situation diplomatically. Granted, it had worked. But still, that wasn't the point. And now, there he sat slumped like he had the universe on his shoulders. She didn't have the heart to properly scold him now. "Well, that was very… theatrical Rodney."

"And effective," Sheppard added before tilting his head inquisitively, "Super-villain?"

"Not now Sheppard," McKay sniped in annoyance.

"Ok. Fine." Sheppard's mind kept running with it though. McKay had mentioned he'd had some fun before the CIA got a-hold of him, "But that part about the secret lab under the volcano..."

"Please not now," all snipe was replaced by a simple quiet plea as McKay leant forward and buried his head in his hands. It was all just too much.

"Ya, buddy" Sheppard agreed sincerely as he pulled up a chair beside his friend, "Not now."


	19. Hackers

-Earth-

A steaming hot shower, a baggy jump suit, a mug of hot cocoa, and a good book were the perfect things to help Sam wind down after a successfully completed mission at the SGC. At least, they were normally the perfect way to wind down. This time though, she just couldn't shake the feeling that the mission wasn't over. It lacked closure this time.

Sg1 had been taken off the case this morning. It had been decided that they'd uncovered enough to get the ball rolling, and that there full attention was now needed to deal with the Ori. In truth, the Ori spin had been the only reason SG1 had been put onto the case.

Now that it was apparent that developing a defence or weapon against the Ori wasn't the Trust's real motive after-all, General Landry and the President agreed that the investigation was best taken over by other departments, allowing SG1 to focus their efforts on the Ori.

All indications were that the secret installations that had cropped up five years ago had been discontinued for at least the past two years; making that trail cold. Upon deeper examination of the ashes Daniel had noted surrounded the sites, it was found chillingly that they were indeed human ashes. There was such a large quantity that forensics had been able to find some surviving genetic material. Dr. Lam was assisting in the effort to build profiles from the information. Until they could confirm exactly who the Trust had managed to abduct for this, that trail was cold too. The odds of finding a genetic match to someone that they just happened to have in their database were beyond astronomical.

Identifying possible leaks in the SGC or any upper or secret level of Government was a job for internal affairs and special officers. That was apparently a strict policy.

If the Trust hadn't been trying to create a weapon against the Ori, then what had they been trying to accomplish? Surely, considering the timing, only the Goa'uld could have been interested in the experiment. But any possibility of Goa'uld infiltration, against her own advice, was to be dealt with separately from the StarGate program. Officially, the Pentagon and the Secretary of Defence denied any possibility of Goa'uld infiltration on Earth. But in reality, there was now a separate program that was created especially to deal with that problem. The SGC might be called in to assist, but it was ultimately out of their hands.

Sam was certain that General Jack O'Neill was heading this program. It was the only thing he could possible have left the StarGate program for. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd agreed to misdirect the rest of SG1 for National Security. She couldn't fault him for it.

Realizing that she didn't know how long she'd been staring at the same page in her book, and it was upside-down, Sam huffed in frustration and tossed it to the other end of the sofa.

Too much didn't make sense. There were still too many unanswered questions. Why would the Trust purposefully alert them to what they had been doing by making it so obvious they were looking for McKay? Why now, when it seemed like they'd given up on whatever they'd been trying?

How had McKay gotten caught up in all this in the first place? Was that science project alone really enough to attract that sort of attention? Then there was MENSA. And with his flat refusal to allow any further communication between Beckett and Lam on the subject, that road was pretty much a dead end now too. She suspected that his continued lack of co-operation had a lot to do with the fact that he was safe in another Galaxy. The Trust was not an immediate concern to McKay.

Mitchell was pretty burned up about that. He'd called it selfish and irresponsible. Idealism required that McKay do everything in his power to help stop the bad-guys, whatever the personal cost. But what Mitchell didn't understand was that McKay was anything but an idealist. When Mitchell had then learned about the incident with Teal'c, smoke had almost literally rolled out of his ears. Sam didn't really think that McKay was really a bad guy. He was just… McKay.

Of course, Caldwell's heavy handed pressuring of McKay probably hadn't helped. He'd been given firm orders to apologize to McKay for 'any misunderstandings' as soon as he reached Atlantis again. The Daedalus had left four days ago.

To be honest, Sam wasn't entirely convinced that the Trust and the Goa'uld couldn't know about Atlantis. But without proof the idea wouldn't even be entertained. There was too great a risk of war if the nations that knew of the Star Gate program began suspecting each-other of being infiltrated. So far, all they had was circumstantial evidence that the Goa'uld were even involved in the resurfacing of Pheonix. It wasn't enough.

The more Sam thought about, the more she saw too many dots with too few connecting lines.

With a slight smirk and glint of mischief, Sam climbed off the sofa and went to her closet for her trainers. Sure, she was off the assignment officially. But what she did with her down time was her decision, right? After-all, General Landry had told her to relax. She'd tried. She'd learned that she couldn't relax until she had some answers. If one looked at it that way, General Landry had practically ordered her to find those answers.

Sam's grabbed her jacket and opened her door. She nearly walked right into Mitchell. His hand had been poised to ring the door bell.

"You couldn't wind down either?" Mitchell smiled and nodded towards the laptop bag and rucksack she'd slung over her shoulder.

Daniel poked his head around the door, "Hi Sam."

"Good evening," Teal'c greeted from behind Mitchell.

"You have a plan?" Mitchell asked as he stepped aside to let Sam out.

She smiled brightly, the mischief back in her eyes, "Ya. I think I do."

The door to Sam's home closed behind the team. They were focussed on the mission they'd set for themselves. They were going to find some answers.

A few moments later the door to Sam's apartment opened again and Sam walked inside looking a bit embarrassed, followed by her team. "Just give me minute guys."

As she spoke she grabbed a pair of genes out of the clean laundry basket and un-wrapped the towel from her hair.

888888888888888

Mitchell had been driving for hours, and was starting to get a little bored. He was all out for team field trips. But it was around two thirty in the morning and they were in the middle of no-where. This wasn't exactly Mitchell's idea of a fun night out.

The road was deserted. They'd stopped passing other cars some time ago.

"So, how's it going?" Mitchell glanced sideways at his hair-towel free team-mate before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Fine. I sort of need to focus on this though." Sam answered without looking up from her lap top. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, and her eyes moved intently over the screen. At one point she had rolled down her window and stuck an aerial of some sort on the roof of the car.

Mitchell kept taking his eyes from the road to sneak peeks at Sam's Laptop.

"Perhaps," Teal'c's calm voice came from the back seat, "You should watch the road."

"Yes," Daniel piped up, "Let's not have a flaming car accident in the middle of nowhere tonight?"

"Hey, I was watching the road." Mitchell defended, "Mostly. So out of curiosity, what will happen if we get caught?"

Mitchell could hear Daniel shrug in the back seat, "Slap on the wrist maybe?"

"A slap on the wrist? You really think so?" Mitchell asked disbelievingly while he looked at Daniel in the rear-view mirror.

Daniel was gazing distractedly out the side window, "Yes well, saving the world a few times has its benefits. But if you just keep us moving, we won't get caught."

"I got that," Mitchell assured as he glanced at his GPS and turned down another side-road. "But what exactly are we looking for?"

Sam barely glanced up from her lap top as she answered, "Everything seems to go back to the CIA. McKay joined MENSA the same year he became involved in the CIA."

"And," Daniel added with a trademark push of his glasses, "he disappeared within a year of helping the CIA."

"Exactly," Sam affirmed that the two of them were on the same wave length again, leaving Teal'c and Mitchell to play catch up.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at Daniel, "Do you both believe the CIA was involved in Dr. McKay's abduction?"

"Not quite," Daniel winced apologetically, "But close."

"Aha!" Mitchell practically hollered as the car swerved slightly. "Don't tell me! I think I've got it!"

He twisted to see Daniel better as he spoke, "Someone in the CIA was working with the Trust. A double agent!"

"Yes yes!" Daniel yelped, "Now watch the road!"

"Sorry," Mitchell turned back around quickly and evened out the car, "But I'm right, right?"

Sam checked the aerial she'd placed on the roof to make certain it was still steady, and the black box that it was attached to. "We're just opening up the line of communication to encourage a little more information sharing between departments."

Her fingers played across the keyboard and in moments a login screen brandishing the CIA logo appeared.

"Nice!" Mitchell grinned at the screen. He'd been a little surprised when the team had first suggested Sam hack into the CIA. She gave the impression of being so 'by the book'.

"Road please." Daniel reminded. He was a little tired of dieing.

Mitchell turned back to the road as he continued, "But how are you going to get passed the login?"

Sam turned her head and looked at him almost derisively. She really did have a dark side! "Please. That's the easy part."

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Mitchell looked away from the road and to Sam again and saw a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. The 'by the book good girl' had been replaced by Sam the Hacker.

"Yes! We've done it before." Daniel yelled, "And I've never felt we were risking our lives to do it until now. Please watch the road."

"Actually," Teal'c interjected, "I believe he this is the first time we have broken into secret CIA files. And perhaps I should drive."

"I think he meant more in general, Teal'c," Daniel corrected a tad grumpily.

"Guys!" Sam piped in without looking away from the screen, "Could you take it down a notch? I'm trying to keep us from getting caught here."

"Hm," Mitchell grinned lopsidedly, his eyes on the road.

Daniel folded his arms and looked out the window. He was not going to risk Mitchell taking his eyes off the road again. He'd been dead enough times already.

The light from Sam's laptop spread a bluish hue throughout the car, causing the passing scenery to be partially obscured by their reflections. Daniel could see Mitchell's smug smile reflected off the side window. What was he smug about? "Hm what?"

Mitchell kept his eyes dutifully on the road while he answered, "Oh I was just thinking how far we've come. You guys are out breaking the law, hacking top secret government files, and you brought me with you. Yup. We're a team."

Sam unplugged her lap top triumphantly. "All done. Take us home team leader."

Mitchell dutifully turned the car around, "You got the files you wanted?"

"I got it all." Sam grinned over at Mitchell.

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It was mid-morning and the team was spread out around Sam's living room, though it was difficult to tell with the curtains drawn. Daniel, Teal'c, and Mitchell were pouring over printed out files that were scattered seemingly half-hazzardly. Sam was intently scrolling through some code on her lap top. In a place of honour, and within reach of every member of the team, was a large coffee urn.

All four looked up in surprise when the door-bell rang.

"Are you expecting someone?" Daniel asked from his place on the sofa, his finger poised in mid-turn over a pile of notes.

"No," Sam replied with a look of curiosity as she set her lap top aside and rose from her plush easy chair.

She squinted her eyes as she opened the front door to the bright morning light. Standing before her, in all the splendour of full military dress, was Colonel Jack O'Neill. "Jack!"

"Tsst!" Jack held up a hand and made a noise to silencer her, "I have been up since three am, speaking with the head of the CIA, the Secretary of Defence, and the President, about a mysteriously untraceable hack into the CIA's systems. You'll never guess what the hacker was interested in! It was McKay! They were worried that the Trust had actually cracked the whole security system. I had to tell them that I was behind it!" Jack rubbed his head tiredly, "And when I say I, I of course meant that I ordered it. Then I had to argue that there were some very good reasons for it. So Sam, tell me there were goods reasons for it."

Sam cringed guiltily and opened her mouth to apologize but Jack cut her off, "I don't want to hear it. All I want to hear right now is that you found something great. And I mean brilliant."

"We did indeed," a deep voice answered from somewhere behind Sam.

"Teal'c," Jack acknowledged. "You didn't even try to stop her. Did you?"

"Hey Jack," Daniel's voice called from somewhere near Teal'c's.

"And Daniel," Jack called back then muttered to Sam, "Why am I not surprised? You know, I remember when you were just this innocent little geek. Now look at him."

"We couldn't sleep," Daniel explained, from where he was suddenly standing just behind Sam, as though that said it all.

Teal'c solemnly nodded once in agreement, "The mission was not complete."

"Get hobbies!" Jack snapped as Sam led him into the living room. Jack surveyed the room, his eyes resting on a large white-board at the back of the room with what he could only think was a connect the dots puzzle carefully drawn over it. "I see you've been busy."

"It's a chart," Daniel explained as he settled back onto the sofa. "We're mapping out the connections we've drawn so far."

Jack titled his head at the board, "I thought it was duck."

"See! That's what I said!" Mitchell piped in from the other end of the sofa.

"And these?" Jack motioned to the top secret files spread out over the coffee table.

"These are the files which we have stolen," Teal'c confessed as though they were an everyday matter. Teal'c took his seat between Daniel and Mitchell and returned to the file he'd been looking at.

"Then what are you doing?" Jack walked over to where Sam had already reopened her lap top. Gibberish scrolled down the screen. Sam was reading through it as though it made sense.

"This is computer code. Specifically it's the code for the entire network system, including security." Sam explained excitedly, "While I was searching the CIA system and downloading the files I noticed an unusually large spike in the CIA system processor, more than it should even with a files being searched and security systems running."

"Right," Jack looked at her blankly, "Which means what?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged as she turned back to the monitor, "That's what I'm trying to find out."

"And this is connected to all that… how?" Jack motioned to the coffee table coated in top secret files.

Sam looked back up at Jack and smiled politely but a little guiltily. Jack knew she was probably kicking herself for assuming the rest would be obvious. "The spikes occurred only when I searched certain key words. Namely, everything to do with McKay's case."

A considering expression crossed Jack's face at that, "Now that's interesting."

"I thought so too," Sam agreed with a smile.

Jack watched in silence for a moment before grabbing a cushion and settling down with a file by the coffee table.

"You know what I don't get?" Mitchell asked just as Jack was about to open his file.

All eyes turned to Mitchell in rapt attention. It hadn't been lost on the rest of the team that Mitchell seemed to be on role lately. He tilting his head quizzically as he spoke, "If McKay is really the paranoid, self-centred, over-cautious bastard that he is…."

Sam cringed at the frank description but Mitchell continued, "…then why would he ever agree to work with the CIA or any branch of American Government again? Ever? I mean, why risk it?"

Daniel glanced back down at the file he'd just been reading, "Maybe because if he didn't he'd have gone to prison for stealing a fortune from the Stock Market?"

"What?!" Sam's leaned forward to see, her lap top left to balance on the arm of the chair.

"No way! Really?!" Mitchell snatched the file from Daniel and began reading it, ignoring the perturbed glare it elicited from Daniel.

"Yes," Daniel continued, "apparently going back to work for the CIA was sort of a chance at rehabilitation."

"Let me see that," Jack snatched the file away from Mitchell.

"But what after that, with the Pentagon and Area 51. Do you mean to tell me that he just stuck around out of the goodness of his heart?" Mitchell now seemed determined that McKay had no redeeming qualities.

"Perhaps," Teal'c offered with a nod to his own small stack of papers, "It is because he has been compensated quite handsomely?"

Daniel glanced over at the paper at the top of Teal'c's stack and did a double take, "Could be."

"No," Sam voiced in the tone she used when she was onto something, "Mitchell is right. McKay must have had another reason for staying close. I don't think he's the type to care about money."

O'Neill stood and hovered over Sam's shoulder, "Have you found something?"

Sam barely glanced up from the screen as she answered, "McKay designed this entire system, he wrote the program, he did it all."

Mitchell looked up from where he'd been gawking at McKay's financial files, "You mean that rumour's true?"

"Ya," Daniel answered for her and tossed the file with that information to Mitchell, "It's true."

"Anyway," Sam picked up, "When you get down to the programming, it's a unique language. And it looks sloppy. There superfluous scraps of code that the program skips and ignores. They look like mistakes or alterations that weren't fully removed. I thought it was just because he was inexperienced at the time."

"But?" O'Neill prodded her onward.

"I'm double checking. But I think it might be a program hidden within the program." Several keystrokes later, Sam had highlighted everything that wasn't part of the functional program and brought it together in a separate text file. Her brow furrowed.

O'Neill looked between Sam and the screen, "Well?"

"It's gibberish," She confessed with a disappointed sigh.

"What am I looking at?" Daniel asked in a soft, thoughtful voice.

Sam looked up at him in surprise. She hadn't even noticed him come over. "This is the original text of the program. The highlighted fragments are the parts that don't appear to have a function."

"And that's where you've brought them together." Daniel pointed over at smaller window of the word processor."

"Yes. But like I said, it makes no sense." Sam huffed with frustration.

"Maybe," Daniel tilted his head thoughtfully at the monitor. "But what if it's not? You said it was a new language. What if this part is using a syntax you don't recognize? The bits are broken up throughout the rest of the program, right? Who's to say it has to be read in the order it appears."

Sam looked at the monitor more closely, then suddenly began typing furiously.

Jack made an annoyed sound. He'd been up too late and it was too early for this. "Translation if you please?!"

"McKay really did it!" Sam exclaimed in amazement as she read the re-ordered code.

"Did what?" Jack demanded, "And, please, use small words."

Sam turned fully to the rest of the team, "It's a spy program. It essential waits lays dormant, waiting for certain key-words to activate it. If those key words are used in anything from a report, to an e-mail, or in my case a system search, the program switches on, stores the data in a secure back-door network file, and sends a warning to a specified in-box. This is the system used by the White House, the Pentagon, Area 51, the FBI, the SGC…"

"Son of a bitch," Mitchell exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Indeed," Teal'c concurred, "Does not Earth have a common saying? Keep your friends close…"

"And your enemies closer", Daniel finished for him. "He's been working for the government all this time so that he'd know if they were ever going to go looking for him, or turn against him."

Sam shook her head, "That's probably how it started, but he has no way of accessing this information or receiving the warning e-mail from Atlantis."

It was Jack's turn to lean over and look thoughtfully at the monitor. McKay might have just given him exactly what he needed to track the movements of the Trust, and the Goa'uld. "Now that you know that's there… can you set it to look for whatever we tell it to?"

"Sure," Sam looked up at him in surprise, "But shouldn't we report this?"

Mitchell looked scandalized, "We're not going to let him get away with spying on this government, and likely accessing classified information. Are we?"

"Um," Daniel's eyes wandered over the coffee table still coated in top secret FBI files.

Sam glanced away guiltily. Apparently her alter-ego, Hacker Sam, was gone for now.

"Is that not what we have done, Colonel Mitchell?" Teal'c asked bluntly.

"No!" Mitchell looked scandalized as he declared it, then looked back at the table…" Maybe. But that's different! We're doing it for the greater good of man-kind and yes, ok, so pot-kettle."

Jack deposited his hands in his pockets and looked ponderously at the table. "It seems to me that he was just watching his back. If you find out that he did anything that you four wouldn't have then you let me know."

His voice trailed off as his eyes locked on one of the files. It was the personnel file of one of the CIA agents. This agent had been involved with MENSA. He was a mid-level agent. He had worked extensively with McKay prior to his disappearance. This agent had later transferred into undercover military service. But none of that interested Jack at the moment. What interested Jack at the moment was the familiar face at the top of the page. "Aw damn! I shared my pizza with that guy and everything!"

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	20. Back to Normal

The Atlantis Mission Briefing room was too quiet, and John Sheppard was getting bored. He and McKay had come down early because they both had some paper work to catch up on. Sheppard had finished his a little while ago, his pen rested on a moderate stack of papers in front of him. The briefing was due to start soon, but now time seemed to be dragging.

McKay was hunched over his lap top, tapping intently away at the keys. He seemed to be in a flow. When wasn't he? The man had only two gears, high speed and asleep.

This wasn't the first mission since McKay's secret had been blown out into the semi-open. But it wasn't getting any easier.

Still, only a handful of people with special clearance and need-to-know status here and on earth had any idea. And of all those people, only John Sheppard had been entrusted with the knowledge of how intelligent McKay really was. Nobody else knew McKay was good at languages or any of that other stuff. Sheppard had tried to convince McKay to relax and just be himself, but the idiot genius still acted like he had to hide.

It was damned weird, and annoying, watching him play dumb about Biology and Medicine around Carson. Not to mention watching him looking oblivious or focussed on a task while staff stood near him chatting in their native tongues, knowing that when he'd roll his eyes and took his work somewhere else it was because of something they'd said.

As for McKay's two days in the infirmary and his off behaviour, everyone on Atlantis who didn't already know better now presumed it was to do with guilt over Collins' death.

The worst part was watching and saying nothing while Rodney took longer than he needed to when translating something or writing a program, or calling on other staff members to do it for him when he could have more easily done it himself. It made John wonder about times when Rodney might have done that to him. Or worse, it made John wonder if there were times when information had been vitally needed and Rodney's needless secretiveness had held it back until the last possible moment.

As far as John knew, McKay still hadn't spoken to Heightmeyer about any of it. She was waiting for McKay to make the decision to go to her. The only advice Heightmeyer had to give John on how to deal with it was to, 'be supportive, and don't press'. She was confident that he'd come around eventually. Apparently people needed time to adjust there behaviour to big sudden changes.

Rodney sighed and looked up from his lap top, "Stop it!"

"Stop what?" John shrugged innocently.

"You know what." Rodney snapped shortly.

"I'm just sitting here!" John defended.

Rodney sighed again and turned fully away from his lap top to John, "No, You're just sitting there and staring at me. So stop it."

"I'm not staring," John fibbed sheepishly.

"You are." McKay stated it as fact. "I thought you had paper work to do too."

"I did. I finished it. And I wasn't staring, I was just thinking." John insisted.

"About me!" McKay bickered back, "And worse! You were staring at me the way you stare at Hermiod!"

John wrinkled his nose, "I don't stare at Hermiod… do I?" So what if he did? It was a weird naked alien!

McKay threw John a sarcastic glare that spoke louder than words.

"Ok! Fine!" John turned pointedly back to his finished paper-work and picked up his pen, "I'll just check it over for errors."

John stared at the papers for all of five seconds. All the secrecy with the rest of the base wouldn't be half as bad if McKay would just let Teyla and Ronon in on it all. It really burned Sheppard that McKay refused to completely trust his Team.

The only thing Rodney would tell Ronon and Teyla was that there was, in his words, 'the slimmest hint of a possibility that he might be able to sense ancients.' He wouldn't tell them how, or anything about what had happened to him, or even that he could be in danger from an organization back on earth.

He tried to be understanding, but missions were getting tense.

"You're doing it again!" McKay practically yelled.

John jumped slightly at the sudden break in the silence, "Sorry!"

"Then stop staring at me!" McKay griped.

"Geez, you're grumpy." Sheppard answered as he pointedly turned away again. Damn, time was going slow. Sheppard absently wiggled his pen between his fingers. Then he noticed he was still holding it. Then he had an urge.

Rodney had begun typing again. Casually, John turned towards Rodney and poked him with the pen.

"What are you, two?" Rodney snapped as he secreted the computer pen out of its holster in the side of the lap top.

"I know you are, but what am I?" John countered as Rodney brandished his own pen.

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Teyla and Ronon entered the gate room together and began up the stairs towards the briefing room.

"Oh, Telya, Ronon!" Dr. Weir waved at them from the command level, "Over here."

This seemed odd. But Teyla turned and walked in the other direction the Command station. "Are we not to have our pre-mission briefing now, Dr. Weir?"

Dr Weir came down to meet them half way. "Soon," she smiled and nodded her head casually towards the clear windows of the briefing room. "I thought we'd give them a few minutes to settle down first."

Teyla and Ronon both turned and followed her gaze up to the briefing room. The two men were darting around the room, poking each-other with pens between clashing them like swords.

Ronon folded his arms and watched them with reserved amusement. Teyla just raised her eyebrows bemusedly, "I see."

This wasn't the first time the two men had been caught behaving in such a manner. Dr. Weir seemed to like to give them space to 'work it out of their system', rather than risk interrupting their bonding ritual.

Teyla understood why. Rodney would rarely behave in such a way in the presence of others. Even with herself, and Ronon, he was always far too serious, as though anything less would place him in a vulnerable position.

This thought reminded her that she was angry with him. Ronon seemed to be reminded of the same, as the amused look was gone from his eyes.

She had known Rodney far longer than Ronon, and yet she felt she knew more of Ronon. Lately, it even felt as though Rodney were pushing them both even further away.

After all they had been through, it was hurtful. And because it hurt her, it angered her.

It wasn't long before Dr. McKay held up his hands in mock surrender and pointed at his watch.

The two men scrambled back to their seats.

"Shall we?" Dr Weir motioned to the briefing room and the three made their way.

When they entered, the two men were crouched over their respective work. Sheppard lay down his pen and greeted them with a welcoming smile. Rodney barely glanced up from his lap-top.

"Gentlemen," Dr Weir greeted with a nod. "You're here early."

"We had a little paper-work to catch up on." Sheppard explained.

"Hmmm," Rodney grunted his agreement without looking up.

"Rodney," Sheppard gave McKay a verbal nudge and Rodney finally looked up from the lap top.

"Ah, sorry. Briefing. Let's make it quick so we can go get that Zed P.M." McKay closed the lap top and gave his full attention.

"Thank-you," Dr. Weir smirked. "But you shouldn't get your hopes up just yet. We have to make a treaty with these people first. From what Teyla tells me, that's not going to be easy."

"They are a very private people," Teyla reiterated. "They do not welcome new trading partners easily, even if introduced by existing friends. There is very little that they have need of."

"Then what makes you think they'd be willing to give us something as valuable as a Zed P.M?" McKay cut straight to the point.

Teyla gave Rodney a reproachful look for his cynicism. "Because they have no need of it, and they are generous allies. They choose their partners carefully because they open themselves fully to those they choose as friends."

With those last words Teyla threw a piercing look at Rodney.

"Well," Sheppard interjected into the awkward moment, "it's good to know we won't be getting any Genni-like surprises.

If Rodney got the message Teyla was trying to give, he wasn't willing to let it show, "Right then. Let's get going. I'd like to be back for supper tonight, preferably before all the puddings are gone."

"Dr. Beckett has given you all a clean bill of health, so you're all cleared to go. Just, please try to return in as good health as you leave this time." Dr. Weir asked hopefully. It happened sometimes, just not often.

"Don't we always?" Sheppard asked innocently.

"You wish," Rodney grumped.

"She said try. We do always try." Sheppard insisted in his literal minded way.

Rodney rolled his eyes towards Sheppard, "You know that's not what I…"

"Let's get going," Ronon interjected before they could get properly started on another squabble.

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A rocky terrain, covered in high boulders, surrounded by a range of tall range of mountains greeted the team when they arrived though the gate. A light frost covered the ground.

Teyla shivered lightly. The mountains surrounding this valley were so tall and close together, they allowed in little the sun-light, and so kept the area cool.

McKay let out a puff of cloudy breath and pulled the scarf he'd brought closer. "Well, this is nice. Wasn't someone supposed to meet us here?"

Teyla glanced at him and nodded. Concern wrinkled her brow, "I was expecting friends to meet us here and lead us to the village, yes.

"Maybe they're just not here yet," Sheppard offered, ever the optimist.

"I smell smoke," Ronon added morbidly.

Rodney moaned and proceeded to gripe, "Great, isn't that Sheppard's queue to say something like, 'maybe they're just having a barbecue'. This galaxy hates us."

Even as he spoke McKay pulled out the ancient scanner and began taking readings, "Yup, see. What did I tell you? The massive energy reading the MALP picked up are gone. Looks like someone beat us to it."

Sheppard turned to face McKay, beginning to lose patience with the negativity, "Maybe they didn't. Let's hope it's off-line now, or hidden."

"Oh yes," McKay agreed sarcastically, "Let's hope. Because things like this usually turn out so well for us. Hm, that's strange."

Sheppard continued to scan the surrounding area, Teyla and Ronon did the same, there were too many things here for an enemy to hide behind. When McKay didn't immediately elaborate he exchanged an annoyed look with Ronon before pressing, "What's strange."

"I'm getting some odd readings. It's a low level wave of energy, pulsing from somewhere over there." McKay pointed towards one of the mountains.

"That is the direction of the first village." Teyla elaborated.

"Ok. Let's head back to Atlantis and get a jumper. We won't be able to land but we can at least scout the area, see what we're dealing with. McKay, dial the gate." Sheppard ordered as he kept his eyes on the terrain.

McKay caught the worried tone in Sheppard's voice and tucked away his scanner. Sheppard could here him jog over to the dialling device without question and hit the first button.

"Oh no." McKay moaned.

Sheppard winced. That sound was never a good sign. "What?"

There was a quick clicking sound as McKay hit the same button repeatedly, "It's not working!"

"Well then fix it!" Sheppard gave the obvious order. Why couldn't McKay just skip the panicking just once and go straight to the making it right?

"I'm on it," McKay answered, and the scuffling sound of the dialling device being opened reached Sheppard's ears.

The team waited several long minutes without hearing anything from McKay.

"McKay? How's it going?" Sheppard yelled over his shoulder.

"You don't have to yell. I'm right here." McKay griped from just behind Sheppard.

Sheppard jumped slightly at the sudden close sound. Dammit. He caught the look on Ronon's face as he turned to look at McKay. The runner had probably heard every step. John tried and failed to swallow his annoyance at being surprised when he addressed Rodney, "Is it fixed?"

"No. There's nothing wrong with it." McKay answered sharply. "Whatever is wrong with the gate must have something to do with that energy reading."

Sheppard turned to look at the offensive terrain again. There were too damn many boulders. "Teyla, could the Wraith have something to do with this?"

Teyla looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head, "I do not sense the presence of any Wraith."

"Ronon?" Sheppard asked.

Ronon had relaxed his hold on his blaster, "There's no-one out there."

The tension in Sheppard's shoulders loosened a bit at that news, and he relaxed his hold on his own gun.

"Rodney, are you picking anything up?" Sheppard asked the question casually, and used Rodney's first name as an apology for snapping at him earlier.

"I already told you," McKay sniped, "Energy readings, remember?"

Ronon grunted in annoyance, and Teyla actually turned away from the terrain to face Rodney.

"What?" Rodney looked innocently between the three.

Ronon half turned to McKay and growled, "Are there any Ancients?"

"I don't know!" Rodney gestured animatedly with the scanner, "And why would an ancient raid a village for a zed p.m?" He closed with folding his arms stubbornly.

When Sheppard and Teyla continued to stare him down, and Ronon turned to join them, Rodney relented with a put upon pout, "Ok! My Spidey sense isn't tingling, if that's what you mean. But I have no idea what the range is or how reliable it is so try not rely on it too much."

"Fine," Sheppard relented, "But if you get a tingle…"

"Yes, yes. You'll be the first to know." Rodney's shoulders slumped in surrender, betraying the sarcastic bite in his tone.

When Teyla and Ronon turned back towards the mountains they wore dark frowns. If Rodney was so reluctant to use a useful gift to help them, what might he still be hiding that could also be of great help?

"Good," Sheppard admonished Rodney.

Rodney shivered lightly, whether it was from the cold or from the looks Teyla and Ronon kept throwing him was difficult to tell.

It was beginning to look like this was another mission where Sheppard would play neutral peacemaker, again. "Let's head towards the village. Teyla, Ronon. You take point. Scout the region ahead. I'll stay with McKay."

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The frost covered gravel crunched beneath their feet as the team walked in silence. Neither of the two groups uttered a word until they were far enough apart to speak quietly without being heard.

"What was that all about?" Sheppard whispered sharply.

"You can't seriously expect there to be ancients out here." McKay answered with equal sharpness.

Sheppard rolled his eyes and bit back a few choice words, "That's not the point. I expect you to check, just like Teyla checks for Wraith and Ronon for… everything else."

"I'm a physicist, not a psychic guru!" McKay hissed angrily.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear." Sheppard enunciated in a commanding tone, "While we're out on missions I expect you to use everything at your disposal to keep us alive and out of trouble."

McKay actually had the audacity to look offended at that, "And you think I don't!?"

"Do you?" Sheppard challenged.

There was a hesitant silence before McKay answered, "When I have to."

"That's what I thought," Sheppard crowed in an accusing tone.

McKay straightened his shoulders defensively, "Hey! Haven't I always come through?"

"Eventually," Sheppard answered in the same accusing tone. He wanted to be supportive. And he really hadn't intended to have this argument but it had been building up for too long.

"That's not fair," McKay frowned at the low blow.

"Oh, that's not fair?" Sheppard threw unrelentingly, "And making Elizabeth drag that backpack full of translation books to rescue me was fair when you could have easily done all the translating in your head?!"

McKay shrugged awkwardly, "She wanted to come anyway and needed an excuse."

"Uh-huh," The lack of sarcasm and the feebleness of the excuse told Sheppard he was winning this one. "How about those hints you dropped on Carson to get him to think of using Iratus stem cells to cure me?"

"Isn't that a good thing?" McKay's voice rose in exclamation.

Sheppard grumbled, "It would have been faster if you'd just come out and told him!"

"Nothing is ever good enough for you!" Rodney continued to defend feebly.

Sheppard pressed onward, "And what about dragging Carson out to look at the Wraith cure when you probably knew full well it was a crock."

"I did not!" McKay turned a scandalized glower on Sheppard.

"Fine," Sheppard allowed, "Then you WOULD have if you'd bothered to look at it."

"You can't know that," McKay jabbed an accusing finger at Sheppard. "I couldn't have done it without Carson's equipment and I didn't have Carson's research on Wraith physiology."

Sheppard pointed a finger of accusation straight back at McKay, "How exactly AM I supposed to know when you're holding back?"

McKay raised his finger to point accusingly back at Sheppard, then seemed to think a moment about what Sheppard had said. "…maybe we can work out a signal?"

A signal? Sheppard looked at McKay in stunned exasperation before rolling his eyes and turning away. The mantra repeated in his head, 'be supportive', 'don't press', 'be supportive'.

McKay shrugged and kept pace.

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Ronon and Teyla allowed there steps to crunch loudly so as not to eaves drop on Rodney and John. The two Earthers always seemed to drastically underestimate the hearing range of Teyla, and especially Ronon. Normally, hearing the two speak would not have been a problem. But lately they had both sensed strongly that John and Rodney intended secrecy. The two Pegasus born team members might not like it, but they would honour it, for now.

"You seem upset." Ronon observed bluntly. The angry vibes had been coming off of her for weeks and getting stronger the less she spoke of it. Ronon already knew why, but he hoped that if she spoke of it the tension would lessen a bit. He was becoming close to these people, and wanted to keep it that way.

"So do you." Teyla replied shortly, as she did only for Ronon. He seemed most comfortable communicating with few words. Besides, they were both very observant and often knew what the other was referring to without the use of many words. Ronon wished to speak of Rodney.

"Not as much as you." Ronon pressed.

"I have known him much longer. I expected more." Teyla answered honestly.

"I don't like it either." It was obvious. But Ronon knew that Teyla appreciated it when others voiced their emotions.

Teyla nodded, "There is still much that he is not telling us."

"Which one?" Ronon asked with a hint of bitterness.

Teyla glanced at Ronon in surprise. She had not sensed that Ronon was mad at John too, "I am referring to Rodney. John is simply trying to the honourable thing by upholding Rodney's trust. Rodney is…" She trailed off at a loss for a single word to describe Rodney or his behaviour.

"McKay is McKay," Ronon finished for her, meaning that the scientist was the embodiment of paranoid negativity.

"Yes," Teyla agreed. "I do not understand why he will not share the full extent of his abilities with all of his people. They have all come here for the same reason, and his ability to sense the Ancients would have been an asset to them. Surely he has nothing to fear from his own people? Or have I misjudged the character them?"

"I don't think you misjudged them. But for McKay, it's habit." Ronon could understand the behaviour perfectly well. It just didn't make him like it any more.

Teyla stopped walking and turned to Ronon, "You say that as though his behaviour makes sense."

"It does," Ronon stated matter-of-factly, "For a runner."

Teyla's eyebrows rose in surprise at her normally silent companion, "What does he have to run from other than our common enemies?"

"Don't know," Ronon shrugged. Much about these people who had taken up residence in Atlantis were still a mystery to him. But he did understand what it was like to try to learn to stop running. "Give it time."

The two friends walked in companionable silence as they neared the mountain range.

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Sheppard had accepted the slow hiking pace set by McKay. He was a pretty easy-going kind of guy. This planet wasn't all that bad either, if one ignored the fact that they were trapped with a malfunctioning gate and walking towards unknown danger. There were little birds that flitted around the rocks and made their nests on top. He could almost hear them singing when McKay stopped chattering long enough to take a breath. The scientist was rambling out details about the energy readings. Sheppard had gotten the gist of it a while ago and was now tuning out the details. McKay was more thinking out-loud anyway.

Without warning, McKay switched from spouting a physics analysis to actually talking to Sheppard, "Does Ronon seem a little distant to you?"

"What?" Sheppard asked in somewhat of a daze.

"I said does Ronon seem a little distant to you." Rodney repeated as he distractedly tapped away at the scanner.

John recovered from the sudden introduction of the subject and answered, "It's Ronon."

"I mean more than usual," Rodney answered absently, still fiddling with the scanner.

Sheppard turned a bland look on the genius, "You noticed."

"Mmm," Rodney replied. "Teyla too. I was hoping it would blow over but it doesn't look like it's going to work that way."

"You should talk to them about it," Sheppard whispered the last minute advise as Teyla and Ronon approached them, looking grim.

"The stairs and the bridges leading up the mountain to the village have been burned. It is not passable." Teyla let her worry for the villagers show through.

"We have to get up there to turn off whatever is creating that pulse," McKay aimed his scanner up at the mountain as if to punctuate the point. Then he noticed the worried look on Teyla's face and amended, "and save the villagers, of course. I'm sure they could use help with bridge re-building and such…"

Ronon threw McKay a quizzical look, "I'm surprised you're not already complaining about the climb."

"Well we can't stay down here, and we can't go back home." McKay shrugged, "At least now we know there are no bad-guys waiting for us at the top. I highly doubt whoever attacked the village would strand themselves up there."

Teyla had approached Dr. Heightmeyer not long ago to ask advice on how to deal with Rodney. She had suggested reinforcing positive behaviour with words of praise. "That is refreshingly optimistic of you Rodney."

"Yes well," Rodney shrugged uncomfortably and frowned up at the mountain, "I'll probably eat those words once we reach the top. How far is it?"

Teyla wondered if perhaps John was right to frown on listening to Dr. Heightmeyers advice.

"He's right." Ronon agreed with Rodney's first comment and pointedly ignored the second, "Whoever did this is probably long gone."

"Ok." Sheppard looked unflappably up at the columns of smoke still rising from the mountain, "Then we scout around the mountain and find another way up. Teyla, you're with me. Radio in if you find anything."

With any luck, Sheppard thought, some time alone would help Rodney and Ronon get things sorted out. Then he'd just have to worry about Teyla and Rodney.


	21. Patriot Games

It was a beautifully sunny day, and the forecast was for good weather all day. As in any average American town on any average American street, a barbecue had been lit up in the backyards of virtually every home on McKay's street. It was an all American day, and David Anders was in an all American mood. He whistled the National Anthem while he flipped burgers.

All in all, it was a good retirement. He'd spent a life time in service to the United States of America. He'd done things that were necessary, things that no-one else would have the stomach for. But he'd kept his focus on what was important. Nothing was more important than keeping his nation at the top.

He'd worked for the Trust, as a double agent, throughout his entire career with the CIA, and then later the Military. Even as a retired man, a way had been provided for him to serve his country. His face wrinkled into a smile.

He had to admit, he'd been a bit concerned when the boy had escaped from the project. He'd left reeked havoc in a way he hadn't thought possible. So much so that at the time the there was a split in the Trust, leaving fractures rogue elements of the NID on one end, and the Committee on the other. But they'd united again, eventually. And it had renewed David's faith that the American spirit would prevail.

It had been almost too good to be true when the Secretary of Defence had put him right across the street from McKay because he'd worked with the boy when he was in the CIA. All he had to do was keep out of sight while the boy was around, watch from a distance, and make sure he was ok. Little did the Secretary know that it was the perfect position for him to continue informing the Trust of McKay's movements.

Things had been so quiet at McKay's place for so long that David had begun to feel a bit useless. But all that feeling had fled when that O'Neill fellow had dropped off that decoy McKay. But David hadn't been fooled. No sir. And he'd told the Trust as much.

He wished he could have seen the look on the fake McKay's face when he'd suddenly been beamed into and left in an abandoned facility, and without so much as a tug at his fake face too. David chuckled lightly to himself.

The Trust had said they were completely confident in David's information. They hadn't even checked to confirm that he was a fake. Thanks to David, they'd known. Yup, trust. That's what the Trust was all about.

Those were his last thoughts before he vanished in flash of light.

After a moment's disorientation David was able to focus. He was in a strange metal room, and standing only a few feet from him, holding a pizza, was that O'Neill fellow.

A satisfied smile was frozen on O'Neill's face, "Hi! It's kind of unpleasant being snatched out of the blue. Isn't it?"

David tried to take a step towards O'Neill but was shocked backwards by the force-field, "W-what's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Mr. Anders. You and I are going to have a little talk. And this time I'm not sharing any of my pizza!" As if to prove the point, O'Neill took out a slight and took a big bite.

In a room near-bye, SG-1 stood watching the two men on a monitor. The elderly prisoner was making a show defiance, but it was easy to see that he was pretty shaken up.

"Have we sunk to new low?" Mitchell suddenly asked as he watched to view screen.

Sam looked from the screen to Mitchell curiously. When he didn't elaborate she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Mitchell drawled, "We've abducted a senior citizen from his home with the intention of applying psychological pressure to break him into talking…"

Daniel's brows furrowed as he considered that. After a few moments deliberation he and Sam chorused, "Nah."

"I'll never tell you anything!" An elderly voice declared through the speakers. "You can't make me betray my country!"

888888888

Several hours later, David was slouching in a seat across from O'Neill, with a slice of pizza on a plate in front of him. All the mirth of the sunny day he'd been enjoying was gone, and replaced with the doleful look of a St. Bernard. "You're right. I was the one who informed the Trust that I'd found what they'd been looking for. And, I was later made his neighbour to keep an eye on him. Not that it's done much good. He hasn't been back to his house in two years! I'd sure like to know what they're holding in Area 51 that's held his interest for this long without a break. The boy never had much of an attention span."

O'Neill wrinkled his nose distastefully. Sitting here with this guy and listening him speak so reminiscently about McKay was too normal. Knowing what he knew, Jack found it damned creepy. "So, you know that what you're responsible for doing to him wasn't right, right?"

"Right? I'll tell you what isn't right. No-one is meant to be that intelligent, especially not a child. He was dangerous." David Anders laughed darkly. "Make no mistake. That mind of his was and still is a weapon. The best thing I could have done for this country is make certain that weapon was under control. The CIA wasn't going to do what was necessary."

"What was necessary?" O'Neill stared at him in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what they did to him?"

The old man nodded grimly, "I know. He was the perfect candidate for the Phoenix project. And it worked for a while. That boy accomplished some good things for this country. Imagine if we never had to send soldiers to die in battle again. Those pansy liberals are always saying that it shouldn't be necessary, that we should somehow be able to accomplish everything we need without any of that. Well, that's what we tried to give them. Imagine if we could just make the enemy see things our way, make them surrender, without ever leaving our own soil. Imagine if we could locate and kill and enemy leader without having to alert or harm any of his guards or soldiers."

"A child is not a weapon." O'Neill practically hissed.

David let out a scoffing laugh, "Not a weapon? You sure about that are you? Never-mind that he was building nuclear bombs at the age of twelve. I'm sure you've learned about his attack on the very thing which holds our country together! Capitalism. He hacked into the Stock-market and made off with millions! It took us a year to figure out it was him and track him down! Do you have any idea what it would have done to this Nation's financial standing if that had gotten out."

Global Economics was really more Daniel's thing. "Um… No. Not really. But that's not the point. Besides, he was rehabilitated after that. That's why he went back to work for the CIA, right?"

"Ha!" The old man laughed out. "Rehabilitation my ass. You know he ran away again something like eight times? Bet his file doesn't say that. It would have made his baby-sitters look bad. He was a slippery little delinquent. A read bad egg. Mark my words, that boy was and is a bomb waiting to go off."

A fist slammed loudly on the table, making the old man jump. "Ok. That's enough. Stop right there. I had enough of that with the last old man I talked to about this. The bottom line is that a human being, American Citizen or not, is not to be used at a pawn in your sick war-games."

David shook his head sagely, "That's where you're wrong, my boy. All any of us are in this world are pieces on a chess board. I'm content to have played my part for this country. The Goa'uld understand that. They're the best ally's we could have hoped for. Not like those Asgard, sitting on high and with-holding information from us. If the time has come for me to be moved off the board, then so be it. I thought that McKay had outlived his usefulness in the game long ago. I guess I was wrong."

Shock rippled through the viewing room where SG1 was watching. Sam looked completely disgusted, "He knew he was helping the Goa'uld and he calls himself a patriot?!"

Daniel just shook his head, "No. I don't think so."

"He just confessed it, Daniel. The man officially has no redeeming qualities." Mitchell jabbed an accusing finger at the screen.

"He's been brain-washed by the Goa'uld," Daniel enunciated thoughtfully, "That's why he's talking so easily. He doesn't really want to keep it secret. Maybe he hasn't been pre-programmed with orders for this sort of situation."

"You really think so?" Mitchell scrutinized the screen more closely as though it could confirm or deny Daniel's suspicions.

"Yes," Daniel nodded, "Of course, that doesn't mean you weren't right about him not having any redeeming qualities."

Back in the meeting room, Jack had just told Mr. Anders exactly what he thought of people who worked for the Goa'uld.

Anders faced Jack proudly, with his shoulder back, "How dare you judge me? You have no idea! Men like me shaped this country! We did it by doing what was necessary. Men like me still do. Do you really think the cold war is over? Do you think it ever will be? We have to be prepared to do whatever it takes to keep this country strong."

Jack was sure he was going to throttle the old man, senior citizen or not. There was a knock and both their heads snapped towards the door. Jack turned back to Anders and spoke with clenched teeth, "Hold that thought."

It was Daniel who stood outside the door, hands in his pockets. Jack stared at him a moment before whispering forcefully, "I'm kind of BUSY here Daniel."

"Uh, ya. I know." Daniel answered dismissively before continuing, "There's just something I thought you should know before you throttle him. I think he's trying to give you as much information as he can but is under Goa'uld mind control."

O'Neill stared at Daniel for moment. "Oh." How many hours had he just spent trying to break a man who was already ready to talk? "Well yes. That's good to know. Thankyou."

"You're welcome." Daniel smiled politely. They looked at each other a moment longer before Daniel tilted back on his heels and pointed towards the viewing room, "I'll just uh go…"

"Ya." O'Neill agreed, and ducked his head back into the interrogation room. He regarded the old man, still standing with a proud, patriotic air. "Mr. Anders. Let's move on from that whole traitor thing. After-all, one person's traitor is another person's…" O'Neill searched for the right word. Fascist… no… monster… no… scum of the earth… "well, you get the idea."

It was time to see just how badly David Anders sub-conscious wanted to talk, "It's pretty clear that you've had access to McKay for a real long time. Why'd you let him stay free and stay alive if you thought he was such a danger?"

Anders seemed to relax at the return to questioning and sat back down. "Getting a kid's parents to hand him over is one thing. It's quick and clean. Nobody comes looking. Stealing him from under the nose of the CIA, and virtually ever intelligence covert agency this nation has, is quite another. He was being watched like a hawk. Retrieving him would have been too high profile."

O'Neill listened to how eager Anders seemed to be to answer. Daniel had been right. "What changed? Why is looking for him suddenly worth the risk?"

"What risk?" David Anders shrugged and smirked, "Nobody tried to abduct McKay. We just put the word out that we were looking for him. Then we sat back and let you do the rest."

O'Neill stared at him in confusion a moment, "Huh?"

Another knock came at the door.

Daniel stood outside with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. O'Neill half smiled, half grimaced at Daniel in greeting. "Daniel!"

"Hey Jack. Uh. I just thought…" Daniel began.

"Tchhht!" Jack cut him off. "Why don't you just come on in."

Daniel ducked into the room and waved at the prisoner, "Hey."

"Hi there," Anders nodded in greeting. "Aren't you that civilian that figured how to work the Star-Gate?"

Jack elbowed Daniel when he looked like he was going to answer the man, "Can we get on with the interrogation please?"

He turned back to Anders, "This man has something he'd like to ask you."

"Uh, yes." Daniel took a seat across from the old man and looked him in the eyes, "When you say that you wanted us to believe you were looking for McKay, it's because you wanted us to find out about the original project, right? You were hoping that we would revive the research for you, so that your operatives could steal it."

Anders looked back up at O'Neill, "Smart kid."

"Don't encourage him." O'Neill answered blandly. He was more than a little miffed at having been played for so long. The President had made the right decision in the end, but it felt like they'd come awfully close to giving the Trust exactly what they'd wanted.

The information they'd gotten out of this guy so far was more than enough to prove to the President and the Secretary of Defence that the Goa'uld were still a significant threat. Equally important, Ander's admission that the Goa'uld were planning to use operatives to steal the information proved that the Trust still had operatives in strategic positions for information gathering. The insistence on maintaining deniability until there was irrefutable evidence had been tying O'Neill's hands up until now. His job just got a lot easier.

One thing still nagged at him though. "How did you know that the guy we put in McKay's home wasn't the real McKay?"

"Simple," Anders grinned proudly at that. "Nobody sent for his cat."

8888888888888

-Somewhere in Pegasus –

A comfortable chair, some take-a-way pizza, an old episode of Star Trek, and his cat curled up and purring on his lap. That's all Rodney really wanted right now. His calves burned from walking and walking and walking.

Ronon didn't even look winded. The Satedan's long strides were getting harder to keep up with.

"We've been walking for hours!" Rodney complained loudly as he stumbled over a jutting rock.

Ronon paused long enough for the scientist to catch up with him, "Mountains are big."

Rodney watched as Ronon looked up at the mountain as though gauging its height. "Thank you so much for that insight. Mountains are big. I hadn't realized."

"You're welcome," Ronon responded unflappably to the sarcasm, then nodded back towards the mountain.

Rodney followed Ronon's gaze up the steep, crag-ridden face of the mountain. "Yup. That's a big mountain. What if there's no way up? We could be trapped here."

Ronon let out a small sigh. For a scientist, he was surprised how unobservant McKay could be. Teyla would have understood immediately. He tapped his radio, "Teyla, Sheppard. We found the way up."

"What?!" McKay's eyes widened in horror and he looked back up at the steep slope. That's 'steep' as in neck-breakingly impossible. "What way?"

'We're on our way,' Sheppard's answer came through.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" McKay's voice grew high in exclamation. "How are we supposed to get up there?"

"We climb." Ronon answered simply.

McKay glowered at that, "Oh. I'm sorry. Maybe I should be more specific. How am _I _supposed to get up there?"

"That depends," Ronon narrowed his eyes at McKay. He didn't intend it to be intimidating. But the scientist still backed away a bit. "Would you tell us if you could fly?"

"Oh, har har," Rodney's trepidation was replaced with a sarcastic eye-roll.

It had been pretty obvious that Sheppard had sent McKay along with Ronon because he wanted them to talk. It would be a while before the other half of the team caught up with them, so Ronon figured that now was as good a time as any. "It's obvious that you aren't telling Teyla and I everything."

At that, the scientist seemed to forget that he found Ronon intimidating as he rounded on the larger man. "And I know everything there is to know about you, do I? Can I not have SOME secrets?"

Ronon had to admit to himself that that was true. But he'd made a decision, after using Teyla to help kill his old Commander, that he'd never withhold information from his team that was going to affect him in the field. McKay hadn't made that decision yet. But could Ronon really hold that against him? Was it Ronon's place to put a time limit on when another man gave up his past? He decided then that it wasn't.

Rodney watched Ronon as the challenging look was replaced by a teasing smirk, "Do your secrets include laser vision?"

The tension in Rodney's soldiers eased, and he accepted the friendly shift in the direction of the subject, "Ok, who's been showing you earth comic books, Hm?"

"Sheppard," Ronon grunted the answer as he found a seat on a smooth stone.

"I might have known," Rodney responded sarcastically, but his gaze was drifting back up the mountain. "So…uh. How am I going to get up there?"

"I'll help you," Ronon stated, and made room for Rodney on the rock.

The answer seemed to satisfy Rodney, as he took a perch beside Ronon and dug a power-bar out of his pocket, "If you like comics, I've got some classic ones. X-men, Spiderman, …."

Ronon just leaned back comfortably and listened. It seemed to him that if McKay were reminded that he found the strangely powered heroes in comics entertaining, his own abilities might not frighten him so much.

When Sheppard and Teyla approached them, they found the Rodney animatedly listing the powers of each and every super-hero and super-villain in the Marvel universe. Did Ronon fail to get the message that he'd been hoping for a real heart to heart?

"Sheppard!" Rodney called and waved him over. "Hurry up. We should get started up the mountain."

John looked doubtfully up at the steep slope that Ronon and Rodney were sitting in front of. "THAT way? Are you sure?"

"I will help you," Teyla patted John reassuringly on the shoulder before heading forward to join the others.

Rodney already had a climbing rope and harness out of his pack. Rodney being eager to start a climb like that was just plain weird. "Uh. It will be dark soon. I think we should make camp down here for the night and head up in the morning."

McKay paused mid-buckle of his harness and stared wide eyed at Sheppard, "Are you nuts!?

"That is not wise." Teyla frowned reproachfully at Sheppard.

Aw crap. John realized he must have missed something during the briefing. He sometimes had a short attention span. "Ok… What am I missing?"

The reproachful look remained on Teyla's face, "You should pay attention at the briefings instead of poking Rodney with a pen under the table where you think we do not notice."

Ouch. She was scolding as badly as Elizabeth. Sheppard glanced at Ronon, man to man, for some support. Ronon turned and buckled his harness. His whole stance read 'I'm staying out of this.'

Sheppard fought the urge to pout, "He was doing it too."

"Yes." Rodney crowed smugly, "But, unlike you, I can focus on more than one thing at a time. Which is why, unlike you, I know that big scary bad monsters come out at night down here. That's why the villages are in the mountains."

Leave it to Rodney to rub it in. "Alright. Then we start climbing now."

"That would be wise," Teyla agreed with one last glare of reproach.

Ronon appeared to think that now was a safe time to rejoin the group. "We can find a place to make camp once we reach a safe height."

8888888888888

-StarGate Command-

It was getting late. Most of the personnel at the SGC had either gone home for the night or were in their quarters. Only janitorial staff and security officers roamed the halls. In a very few labs a scientist or two was still burning the midnight oil. Sam was usually among those who got caught up in her work, so nobody thought it was unusual that the light was still on in her office.

Judging from the way the rest of SG1 hovered around her desk as she worked, she was probably working on something to do with the Ori. The details of which weren't something that was usually shared with the janitors or even the security guards.

They had no way of knowing that she was putting the finishing adjustments on a spy program that would watch every computer in every branch of the Government, including the SGC, for mention of the Trust.

'Sam?' Sam jumped in her seat when Dr. Lam's voice suddenly flared out of her radio.

Sam picked her ear-piece up off her desk and switched it on, "Carolyn. Hi. You're up late."

"Yes," The doctor answered in the bland tone she often did when responding to the obvious. "I've been going over the results for the DNA tests and found something interesting. Gary told me that you and the rest of SG1 are still. This probably relates to what you're doing."

"Gary?" Sam asked in mild confusion.

"One of the Janitors," Dr. Lam answered shortly.

Mitchell leaned forward and spoke into Sam's piece, "We'll be right there."

On the way to the infirmary, Sam noticed that Mitchell was constantly looking over his shoulder at any staff they happened to pass. She decided not to ask.

"Y'know." Mitchell spoke quietly once they'd stopped passing other people in the halls, "I just hate this feeling that virtually anyone here could be a spy for the Trust. We have no way of knowing who the informants are, or where they are."

Mitchell hushed when another janitor walked by, and he turned his head to watch the other man's retreating back.

"Mitchell. Thinking that way is going to drive you crazy, or give you whip lash." Sam watched as Mitchell's head swung back around to face here. "Would you stop that?"

"Sorry," Mitchell turned back around to face Sam again. "It just easier said than done."

"There might be nobody here who's an operative." Sam put on an encouraging smile. "For all we know the spy's are all in the Pentagon or the Whitehouse or…"

"That's not comforting me," Mitchell interrupted.

"Sorry," Sam winced apologetically. "It kind of makes you think though. Doesn't it?"

"Yes," Daniel piped in. As usual, he was already on the same wave-length as Sam. "Like maybe Dr. McKay isn't so paranoid after-all. Or at least, maybe his paranoia is justified."

Mitchell just rolled his eyes between the two and threw a doubtful look, "Right."

"Well, just think about it." Sam insisted as they stopped outside the elevator. She wasn't sure she liked Mitchell's sudden decision to see only the bad in McKay. "What would have happened if he'd agreed to all of the information that Dr. Beckett has, whatever that is, to being shared with Dr. Lam. The Trust would probably already have it."

Whatever Mitchell had to say about that was interrupted by the angry stream of mutters that came out the opening doors of the elevator, "…Damned bureaucrats!" Jack looked up just as the last part had rolled off his tongue. "Uh. You didn't hear me say that."

"No sir." Mitchell answered with a lop-sided grin.

"Hear what sir?" Sam shrugged interestingly.

The team filed into the elevator, gathering around Jack. They all knew that he'd been sharing the information they'd gotten out of McKay's neighbour with the decision makers.

When Jack didn't immediately tell them what had happened, Teal'c was the first to prod. "I sense that something is vexing you."

Jack pulled a face, "Vexing?" The poor alien must have been reading some of Daniel's books again. Nobody talked that way, even on television.

"It means bothering," Daniel offered helpfully.

"I know what it means!" Jack snapped. "And what's vexing me is red tape. Apparently, two pieces of absolute proof that the 'snaky you know what's' are behind this are not enough to constitute admitting that the 'you know what's' are still a real threat! We have to have at least three."

"Three?" Sam rolled her eyes and scowled. Denial could only go so far before denial became just plain stupidity.

Teal'c put a sympathetic hand on Jack's shoulder, "That does indeed suck."

"Ya. Suck pretty much covers it." Jack agreed. "So, where are you guys headed? You do know that home isn't this way, right?"

"Dr. Lam called. She says she found something we might like to see." Sam explained as the doors slid open and they turned down the hall towards the med lab.

8888888888888

Dr. Lam was putting the final touches the report for her father when SG-1 entered, with General O'Neill trailing behind.

"Ah, General." She greeted O'Neill. "This one is for you. I was going to bring it to your office the morning." She picked up an un-marked file from her desk and handed it to Jack.

"Thanks," Jack took the plain looking file and looked it over. When he opened it the front page of the file had a red stamp on it that read 'Top Secret'. Understated but effected. Though he still liked his sticker coated folders. "What's in it?"

Dr. Lam smiled reproachfully, as though reading his mind about the stickers, "That's actually the same thing I called Sg1 down about. I've been reviewing the results of the DNA tests on the ashes that Daniel noticed at the abandoned research site's around the world. There was so much of it that finding surviving DNA samples really wasn't hard. What's interesting is that every single sample we collected shows that the deceased was a clone."

O'Neill turned back to the file she'd given him and skimmed it. "Clones? Clones line Anubis' clones? Asgard cloning technology kind of clones?"

Dr. Lam considered that for a moment, "The findings are consistent with that technology, yes."

An ecstatic grin spread across O'Neill's face. That was it! This was the third piece of evidence! "I could kiss you!"

Dr. Lam took a step back and gave O'Neill a wide-eyed look.

"But I won't." He quickly amended on his way to the door. "Excuse me boys a girls. I have to go call back the President."

Not only did he have the third piece of evidence that the Goa'uld were involved. The list of suspects had just been narrowed down to any Goa'uld who had worked closely enough with Anubis to steal the cloning technology which he had stolen from the Asgard.

Once the Asgard learned that their technology was being misused on earth, they would pretty certainly want to take a more active role in helping earth to deal with the problem.

"I'm glad I could help." Lam replied to O'Neill's retreated back.

"So," Mitchell yawned, "There's really nothing else we can do now except wait and see what happens. Right?"

"Pretty much." Daniel confirmed.

"Good," Mitchell stretched. Then I'm heading to some much needed sleep.

Sam was still looking through Dr. Lam's information. "You guys go ahead. I'm going to finish looking this over."

She waited until the rest of they were gone before thanking Dr. Lam and heading back to her office. Sam hadn't wanted to keep them up when she could finish up on her own. She'd tell them what she had done in the morning.

The new information that Dr. Lam had given them was useful in more ways than one.

The Goa'uld would almost certainly want to know that the secrecy of their cloning operations had been compromised, whether they were still doing it or not. When Sam reached her office she reopened her new interface to the spy program and quickly added words connected with cloning to the programs criteria. If and when any Trust operatives began discussing that, Sam would be ready.

Mitchell was right about one thing. It was disturbing to suddenly be so confident that this information would be accessed and leaked. McKay's paranoia might actually be a good thing. Thanks to that, any truly sensitive information was safe on Atlantis. At least, she hoped it was safe. Just to be sure she made a mental note to add Atlantis to the spy program's list.

8888888888888888

-Atlantis –

Dr. Sally Parker walked the halls of Atlantis unseen. She just had one of those faces that tended to blend into the back ground. The way she always wore her dull black hair pulled back in a plain pony-tail really didn't help.

Half the time even when she spoke, no-one seemed to notice or care. She was the invisible woman. She'd figured that most people probably wouldn't even have noticed when she returned to earth for a short vacation. And she was right. Nobody on Atlantis had noticed.

She used to think it was a curse. That was, until she'd met Him. She didn't remember much about the return trip to Earth, or her time there. But that wasn't important. What was important was that now she had a purpose. She'd been noticed by a God. Because of her invisibility she'd been chosen to serve Him. How could that be a curse?

Small tool-kit and lap-top in hand, Sally walked into the Atlantis Med-lab.

"Can I help you?" One of Dr. Beckett's pretty nurses smiled warmly. There was nothing plane about the way she looked. Come to think of it, Dr. Beckett had an awful lot of pretty women on his staff.

Sally smiled lightly, "There was a small power spike in that console over there. I'm just checking for damage."

"Certainly, help yourself dear." The nurse waved Sally over the council and returned to whatever it was she'd been doing before.

Sally was invisible again.

The motions were mechanical. It required no feeling, and little thought to simply open one of the consoles in the med-lab and plug her laptop into the interface that Dr. McKay had designed. It would have been so much easier to install an interface on the outside of the unit, but McKay steadfastly refused to allow what he termed damage to the structures of the units. Anyone who tried to argue the point had been called a destructive cave-man and sent to their labs to think about it until they agreed with him.

Strangely, something inside her felt lifted by the memory. But no. That couldn't right. It was surely the service she was doing now for her God that was creating that feeling.

She turned her mind from these thoughts and back to her work. The lap-top now displayed the Atlantis interface. In seconds she was hacked into Dr. Beckett's files. Locating the files he was building on Dr. McKay was a simple task.

Sally quickly scanned over the files. She was dimly aware of a surge of emotion somewhere deep inside her, but it was muted by her programming.

Apparently Dr. McKay was indeed much more than he appeared. Once they'd gotten past their initial fear of causing another migraine, Beckett and McKay had begun to experiment with small bits of telekinesis. What the brain scans had yielded during these episodes had been most informative.

Most important though, was the note that the ETA gene was responsible for McKay's relapses. It had been a good thing she'd taken the time to scan the information.

Quickly and quietly, Sally downloaded all of Dr. Beckett's information on the ATA therapy. It was a shame she couldn't get a sample of the treatment. But her instructions had been explicit. Leave not trace. Take only electronic data.

Sally unhooked her lap top and put the console back together. The pretty nurse that had greeted her when she entered looked over in surprise, "Done already?"

"It turned out to be nothing. I'll get out of your hair." Sally smiled unblinkingly and strolled out the way she'd come.

8888888888888888


	22. Venomous Squirrels

-Atlantis-

There was nothing suspicious about seeing Colonel Caldwell at one of the Atlantis system interfaces. He routinely accessed and reviewed Colonel Sheppard's and Major Lorne's records of incidents relating to the security of the base. Every time the Daedalus stopped at Atlantis he would at some point pull rank and demand to be kept informed.

Of course Goa'uld Caldwell didn't really have any interest in the security of Atlantis. But making it appear as though he did had made his accessing the systems openly a common-place site.

So, when Goa'uld Caldwell used his password to access the Atlantis systems and upload the program that had been prepared by his Lord, he did so with complete confidence. Ironically, it was a command access code provided to him by McKay himself.

He was so close. If all went as planned Atlantis would soon be destroyed by the end of the week, and the Daedalus presumed destroyed along side it. They'd have McKay. And most importantly, Goa'uld Caldwell would be free of this idiotic charade. There would be no need for him to put up with these lowly humans daring to look him in the eye or speak to him as though addressing an equal.

The plotting Goa'uld logged out of the system and left his office on Atlantis with a satisfied smile. The smile faltered when he noted Lorne's team gathering in full gear.

"Major Lorne." Goa'uld Caldwell barked just loud enough to get the Major's attention.

Lorne's shoulders stiffened at the sound of Caldwell's voice. And it wasn't just because standing at attention was the military protocol. It was no secret that Col. Caldwell and Dr. Weir had been clashing more and more. Nor was it a secret that Caldwell disapproved of Sheppard's position. The latter was enough on it's own for most of the people on Atlantis to dislike him. Lorne was no exception.

"Sir," Lorne schooled his face and answered formally.

Goa'uld Caldwell smiled stiffly at the other man, noting the cold formality in the Majors tone. He was aware of how the people stationed here, even the military officers, felt about his bid for command. "I wasn't aware your team was scheduled for an off-world mission today."

"We're not. We're just on stand-by sir." Lorne kept the answer short and free of details. Caldwell was in command of the Daedalus, not Atlantis.

The lack of detail in the Major's answer didn't surprise Caldwell. "Thank you Major. That will be all."

The meagre confirmation was enough. If a team was in stand-by, then there was a potential problem. Lorne would only be on stand-by if the team off world were in trouble. Sheppard's team was the only team presently off world.

If Sheppard managed to get himself killed trying to make friends with every half-crazed, primitive civilization out there, then all the better. The only problem with that was that McKay was on Sheppard's team.

Goa'uld Caldwell stepped into the nearest transporter and pressed the part of the map that would take him to the gate-room.

Predictably, Dr. Weir was standing on the bridge overlooking the gate. Her arms were crossed and she was wearing a familiar fretful frown.

Without invitation, Goa'uld Caldwell joined her. "Is there a problem, Dr. Weir?"

The annoyed look she threw him was immensely amusing to the Goa'uld. After a moment, she answered him. "Col. Sheppard's team hasn't checked in on schedule."

Goa'uld Caldwell allowed himself to smile openly at that. "Do they ever?"

Dr. Weir stared icily at him, clearly not sharing his amusement. "Was there something I could help you with, Colonel Caldwell?"

"No." Goa'uld Caldwell wiped the smile off his face. Human's really had no sense of humour. "I'm just concerned."

"Well, thank-you for your concern." Weir turned dismissively and returned to watching the gate.

She didn't see the flash of annoyance in Goa'uld Caldwell's eyes. Why did the woman always have to be so difficult? "I assume that Dr. McKay is still off-world as well then. Don't you need him to compress the data for your transmission to earth in not too long? Or can Zelenka handle that?"

When Weir turned around again, her smile was anything about welcoming. Everything her stance seemed to ask why he was still standing there. Had she learned that from McKay? "The rest of the science team haven't quite gotten the hang of the compression program yet. But, we have a few days before that's scheduled to happen. Why the concern?"

The piercing look she gave him at the final question caught Goa'uld Caldwell by surprise. It was rare for her to be so openly suspicious of him. The few times she had been, the woman had proven dangerously insightful. His attempts to usurp Sheppard's position flew to mind. "I only thought that we could relay any pertinent information for you."

Her answering smile had disbelief written all over it, "I don't think that will be necessary. Aren't you leaving this afternoon?"

Those were some pretty strong hints she was dropping now. Weir was nothing if not direct. "I think it would be best if you relayed the coordinates that Sheppard's team is on to the Daedalus, and keep us apprised if you are unable to contact them. I'm sure our science team can find an interesting anomaly or two to scan on our way out."

"Thank-you." Dr. Weir's stance was no longer dismissive. "I'll keep that in mind. I have to say I'm a little surprised you're taking such a keen interest in the safety of Colonel Sheppard's team. Then again, perhaps I shouldn't be. You've been doing that a lot lately."

Goa'uld Caldwell grimaced and sighed. She just wasn't making this easy. "I'm just looking out for our own."

She smiled as though that were the sweetest thing he could have said, but her eyes held a cold anger, "Cut the crap, Colonel. We both know that there is only one member of Colonel Sheppard's team that you're interested in, and that's Rodney McKay."

That was direct even for her. She normally had at least some discretion. He couldn't afford to have his rank and authority openly disrespected. Goa'uld Caldwell glanced around and noted that nobody was close enough to hear. Anyone who looked would think they were just having a friendly conversation. "I see your reputation for directness in diplomacy isn't misplaced, as well as your observational skills."

"Thank-you," Weir held her hands in front of her as she often did when addressing someone with dignity, "But flattery will get you no-where."

Goa'uld Caldwell took her lead and schooled his expression to look as friendly as possible. But his tone of voice now betrayed his expression. "You want me to cut to the chase? Fine. McKay is quite possibly the greatest military asset you have out here. I've never thought it was a good idea to allow him to go out on missions."

"Really?" Weir's eyes widened in mock surprise, "I didn't know you were a fan."

Disrespectful human cow! How dare she? Goa'uld Caldwell took a moment to swallow his anger before answering. "Let's try to be professional here. I'm offering you my help."

The Expedition Leader seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding shrewdly, "Alright. I'll keep you apprised. But Colonel, if I ever find that you've backed Rodney McKay into a corner again, intended or not, I will have you dragged from this city and banned from ever setting foot on it again. Am I clear?"

So that's what this was about. Goa'uld Caldwell clenched his teeth. "Crystal clear." He was getting what he needed. That was enough. If McKay got back in time then everything would proceed as planned – if not then he would relay McKay's coordinates to the Mothership.

"Good," Weir admonished in a way Goa'uld Caldwell could only define as smug. "In that case, it's a long journey back to earth. I imagine you'd like to get started as soon as possible."

Goa'uld Caldwell swallowed his pride and nodded his head submissively to her, "I'll just go make sure that Dr. Kavanagh is packed. I know you wouldn't want us to leave without him." Weir could have her small victory for now. She'd be dead soon anyway.

Elizabeth watched Caldwell curiously as he walked away. Caldwell could be so strange. Sometimes it felt like she was talking to two people.

Her line of thought was interrupted when the Canadian Gate Tech ducked his head out of the control room and called to her, "Dr. Weir, it's now twenty-one hundred hours."

She nodded her thanks. It was time to find out what trouble Sheppard and his team had gotten themselves into this time. "Dial the gate."

888888888888888888

- Somewhere in Pegasus -

The wind howled around the flat stone outcropping the team had chosen to make camp on. Somewhere behind him, McKay knew the rest of the team was setting up the tent against the wall of the mountain, where it would have some protection from the wind. He had heard the metal spikes being hammered into the stone. He vaguely entertained the idea of helping, but his muscles protested at even the thought.

"McKay," Sheppard's nudged McKay's shoulder with his foot. The scientist had sprawled out on the stone as soon as they reached the top.

"Please don't make me move." He had no idea so many different and oddly placed muscles took part in the effort of climbing.

"Exercise is good for you." Ronon's voice rumbled from somewhere near where McKay supposed the tent was.

"Sure! In MODERATION maybe!" The normally animated physicist didn't even lift an arm to punctuate his point. The sun was almost down now and the wind becoming biting. So, being the good leader that he was, Sheppard peeled open the hot meal he was holding and walked around McKay until the wind was blowing the scent of the food in his direction.

"I was just going to offer you this MRE." Sheppard waved it around enticingly as he spoke.

As expected, McKay's eyes popped opened and his head lifted. "Oh… Well that was thoughtful."

"It's vegetarian." Sheppard smiled antagonizingly down at McKay. Anger was always a good McKay motivator.

"I take it back." McKay scowled in return, "You're evil, vile, and mean."

"Colonel Sheppard is only teasing you." Teyla's voice came from near where Ronon's had, "I have just finished cooking the beef MRE for you over here."

Reminded of food and hunger, McKay rolled over and climbed painfully to his feet. He was too busy moaning about his aches and pains to notice the look of victory exchanged between Teyla and Sheppard.

The first warm forkful hadn't yet reached McKay's mouth when all four radio's crackled and warbled to life.

_'This …lantis…come in pl…'_

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard. You're breaking up." Sheppard yelled into the radio, hoping it would help something to get through.

_'Hav….tr…br….up.'_

"McKay", Sheppard began to ask McKay if he could clear the signal somehow.

"I'm on it." McKay did already have his equipment out. The laptop he always carried with him was now hooked up to the ancient scanner, which was in turn pointed towards the radio. His hands worked furiously, alternating between typing in the keyboard and tapping commands into the scanner. "The energy readings I was picking up which are affecting the gate are probably affecting communications as well. I've been studying the readings. I think I can program the scanner to emit a low-level pulse that matches the frequency of the portion of the waves affecting communications, cancelling it out at least to a certain point. I wouldn't count on it working as we get closer to the source though."

"How long will it take?" Getting a message to Atlantis was important, but Sheppard didn't want his physicist pulling an all-nighter after climbing a mountain. If it was going to take too long they'd just have to make do with the bad signal.

"Done," McKay pronounced in a tone that practically sung 'Yes, I am a genius.'

Ok. Sheppard had to admit that was pretty fast. He just didn't have to admit it out-loud. "Atlantis?"

'We heard.' Elizabeth's voice came clearly through the radio. 'Good work Rodney. But what was that about the gate being affected?'

"We can't dial out." Sheppard explained before Rodney could get started on a long and complicated explanation, "Rodney says that whatever is doing it is on top of this mountain, where the village is. We're on our way up now. But it's quite a climb."

'A climb?' Elizabeth asked quizzically, 'Didn't the people there have an easier way to get up to their own village?'

"Yes." Rodney piped in before Sheppard could stop him. "They had a series of stairs and bridges, and a primitive elevator on a pulley system, which have unfortunately all been destroyed."

'I don't like the sound of that. Are you sure it's wise to go up there without some back-up?'

Teyla didn't want to consider not reaching and offering help to the people of the village. They had been good friends of her people for a long time. She could understand why Dr. Weir would be reluctant for them to continue, but still Teyla could not help looking to Col. Sheppard in alarm. "I do not believe we have a choice."

There was a moment's hesitation while Dr. Weir considered alternatives, 'Can't Rodney program the scanner to cancel out the effect the pulse is having on the gate?'

"With this little thing?" Rodney's scoffed without thinking, "What are you kidding? It's no where near that powerful. I'm surprised it can do this much."

"Teyla's right," Sheppard cut in before Rodney's mouth got him in trouble. "We should really check on the villagers. You know, do the neighbourly thing and see if we can help."

'I understand,' Weir's voice held a tinge of guilt. But the safety of her people still had to be her priority, 'The Daedalus is on standby. I could have them head towards you, provide backup. The beaming technology could save you the rest of the climb.'

"Ugh," Rodney moaned as he cracked his shoulder, "That would be wonderful, believe me. Except that we're on the opposite side of the Galaxy. It would take the Daedalus over a week to reach us. I think our best bet it to reach the top where I can use my considerable expertise to switch off whatever is generating this energy pulse."

"And," Sheppard added, "I'm sure once we reach the top Rodney will find some way to boost the signal so we can talk to you even with the pulse or whatever still on."

"Oh you're sure, are you?" Rodney's tone made it perfectly clear what he thought of this added expectation.

"Yes," Sheppard challenged back, "I'm sure." His tone allowed no argument.

'Alright then,' Weir agreed, though she still didn't like the situation. 'We'll dial you every twelve hours starting now. If we don't hear from you by the second dial-up, the Daedalus will begin making its way to you.'

The last thing Sheppard wanted was to have to see the smug look on Caldwell's face after being rescued by him, again. "Understood, we'll talk to you soon then. Sheppard out."

Sheppard turned back to his team, fully prepared for the hell Rodney was going to give him for promising that the scientist would find a way to communicate from the top of the mountain. Once the barrage of caustic words wound down, John would explain that his only intention was to keep Elizabeth from worrying. Then Rodney would say, 'oh,' and drop it without apology. It was a comfortable pattern.

John waited. And nothing came. Rodney had turned back to his meal and was pushing it around with his fork. A worry crept into John's mind that he'd really upset Rodney somehow. In context with their argument on the way to the mountain, Sheppard could see how Rodney could feel that way, "I was just trying to keep Elizabeth from worrying. I know you'll do what you can."

"Mmm, what?" Rodney looked dazedly up from his food. Ok, so maybe he hadn't been thinking what John had been thinking.

"I said you're not eating." John lied.

"Oh!" Rodney looked at his already cold meal in surprise. "Y'know. I'm kinda tired. I think I'll just skip supper tonight."

Rodney made to go into the tent but Ronon set him back down on the seat, "Eat. You'll need your strength in the morning."

"So I'll eat more in the morning." Rodney snapped and shook off the Satedan's hand. "I don't need to be mothered."

The other three team members watched in silent surprise as Rodney ducked into the tent.

"Perhaps he is coming down with something," Teyla suggested quietly.

"There's no fever." Ronon rumbled. "I checked."

Sheppard nodded a silent thanks to Ronon, and the three finished their suppers. He decided that he would take Rodney's shift on watch tonight. The scientist obviously needed the rest.

8888888888888

_Pain. There was so much pain he wanted to scream. Was he screaming? Or was he hearing screaming? His muscles ached. But it wasn't just that. Or was it? Physical fatigue could inspire strange dreams. Dreams could create strange sensations. This was a nightmare. It must be. His heart twisted in his chest. But it wasn't his chest. The sensations weren't real. The feelings were outside. In the dream. Suddenly, it felt like his soul was being ripped from his body. And he forgot he was only dreaming._

Ronon looked down at the strange creatures moving in the distance, far below at the bottom of the mountain. The night was dark as pitch. Normally even he wouldn't be able to spot the wildlife moving from this distance. Only on this planet the wild-life produced its own light.

He and Sheppard had woken McKay when they first spotted it, thinking he'd be interested. McKay had called it bio-luminescence and then told them to leave him alone. Now Ronon could hear McKay muttering and tossing in his sleep.

Ronon briefly entertained the idea of waking McKay again. But he needed his sleep, even if it was a restless sleep. And Sheppard had left orders not to disturb McKay unless it was a life or death situation, and in that case to wake Sheppard first.

An agonized scream flew Ronon's hand to his blaster and he spun in one swift move. It was McKay! He saw no immediate threat. A heartbeat passed before he caught the feint glow of one of the creatures. It was creeping silently towards the tent. Ronon never would have believed any natural beast could move that silently.

It leapt for the tent, shredding through the fabric. Ronon fired. The creature fell to the ground, stunned and dazed, but not dead. Sheppard insisted that Ronon keep his gun set to stun unless fighting Wraith.

The creature was like nothing he'd never seen. Part of it was a wild-cat. It was large, muscular, and sleek. But the part that produced the light was like a mirror reflection made of lightening, beside the beast rather than surrounding it. It was unnatural. Both halves of the beast lay with their eyes closed.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Sheppard was up with his gun drawn.

"I have never been this close to the valley at night. The village guide would greet us and bring us to the top of the mountain long before dark." Teyla's own voice was shaky, and her weapon trained on the beast.

"McKay?" Sheppard wanted to ask Rodney what he thought of it. Rodney was sitting up and staring at the creature through the shredded hole in the tent, near where his head had been. He seemed too transfixed by the thing to answer.

"McKay?" Sheppard asked again. "You ok?"

John moved to step between McKay and the creature, and to check on him.

"Sheppard! Get back!" Ronon bellowed and fired.

It was close, but John managed to dive out of the way and turn in time to see the energy portion of the creature reaching towards McKay. The eyes of the material body were still closed. But the lightening eyes were open. The blaster shot had no effect.

"Set it to kill!" Sheppard ordered.

If John didn't know better, he'd think that Ronon already had, because his next shot came immediately and blasted a hole through the body of the beast. The energy fizzled and vanished with a violent howl, leaving only a ruined corpse.

McKay woke from whatever daze he had been in and backed away fast. He would have backed off the edge of the cliff if Sheppard hadn't grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. "W-w-w-w-what was that?!"

"It's one of the bioluminescent creatures we asked you about earlier," Teyla supplied helpfully.

Rodney stared between her and what was left of the creature with wide eyes, "Biolumin…? That was NOT bioluminescence. I mean. Yes it produced light and yes it was biological...sort of, but that's not… It's supposed to be a chemically produced gentle glow that does NOT reach out with ether-real claws to zap you. How do we always find these planets? Why never a planet infested with squirrels or fluffy bunnies. Of course, in this galaxy the bunnies would probably shoot deadly lasers out their eyes and the squirrels would spit venom!"

"McKay!" Sheppard barked, hoping it would snap the scientist out of the panicked ramble. When he had Rodney's attention he continued more gently, "What was it doing to you?"

"Nothing! You killed it before it could touch me. Remember?" Rodney shook himself away from Sheppard and forced himself to take deep calming breaths.

"Rodney," Sheppard spoke slowly and sternly now, "I know what nightmares can be like. But nobody screams like that from just an ordinary nightmare. Now tell us what happened."

"Oh, and you wouldn't scream too if you woke up to that thing staring you in the face?!?" Rodney spat defensively.

Ronon circled the camp, watching for any sign of a glow coming too near from any direction. He didn't like that he hadn't heard the thing coming. "You screamed before even I heard the creature. If you hadn't I wouldn't have had my blaster out in time."

"That's not comforting!" Rodney snapped at Ronon.

Ronon's response was short and blunt, "I'm not trying to be."

It was Teyla's duty to scan the perimeter with Ronon, but she couldn't keep herself from glancing from her duties to Rodney. Though his shoulders squared, and his words angry, it was confusion, fear, denial, and so many other quarrelling emotions that passed through Rodney's eyes. With shame Teyla found that she recognized them all. She had been judging Rodney's reluctance unfairly.

Col. Sheppard looked angry and impatient. Rodney's denial must seem as it had to her at first, simple stubbornness and selfish. Teyla lay a hand on John's arm before he could begin dressing down the scientist.

"Rodney", Teyla began carefully, "When I first began to sense the Wraith, as a child, I had no idea what I was feeling. Even a glimpse at the mind and emotions of the Wraith was frightening and confusing. At first I thought it was only in my imagination. I didn't know how to separate the impressions that came from the Wraith from my own thoughts and feelings, or my imagination. Such things are intangible and difficult to define."

The defensiveness eased from Rodney's posture as she spoke, and Sheppard was once again grateful that the diplomatic Athosian had agreed to be on his team. "Listen, McKay. I understand that it's not an exact science like you'd prefer. You don't have to be completely accurate or right. Why don't you just tell us what you were feeling before it happened. It could end up being helpful, or it might not be. What's important is that you communicate with us." Sheppard was the very picture of non-confrontational, if he did say so himself. He glanced at Teyla for confirmation that he'd said the right thing, and she nodded.

"It was in pain," Rodney hugged his own body to keep his hands from shaking as he spoke. "They're all in a lot of pain. I think it was grateful when Ronon blasted a hole through it. I'm not sure, but I don't think they were always like that."

"Ok," Sheppard nodded when Rodney said no more. "That's good to know. It explains why they're so vicious. Now we know to expect the behaviour of a wounded animal. Nice going Rodney."

An angry howl interrupted any response Rodney might have given to the obvious attempt at positive reinforcement. Instead, he jumped back from the direction of the howl, which was followed by another. They were far down the mountain now, but for how long?

"You know what?! I'm feeling really rested. I could climb all night, how about you? Could we go higher now? Please?" Rodney knew he was rambling, but he didn't care.

Sheppard was right there beside him, gun trained at one of the cliff edges, "More climbing sounds good."

88888888888888

It was mid morning when they finally reached the top of the mountain. The sky was a clear blue, and the sun shone brightly. But its warmth didn't seem to warm the air or touch the ground.

The team took a short break before journeying onwards to the village. The mile long path leading to the village was narrow and walled by tall stone. McKay had complained loudly at the prospect of walking another mile after such a long climb. But he had eventually settled down to eat his breakfast. Now they walked at a good pace.

As soon as the sun came up McKay had seemed to stop sensing the creatures below. It was then that he had once again found the energy to complain. Teyla hoped that they were now high enough that the presence of the creatures would not reach Rodney even at night. As tiresome as his complaining could be, it was preferable to his silence. Especially when she knew the cause of his silence was his suffering.

Still, with all of Rodney's complaining Teyla was surprised he hadn't once mentioned how cold it was. Even with the warm Athosian wools she wore underneath the thickly padded materials of the Earth jacket, Teyla was chilled.

"It does not seem right for it to be so cold when the sun shines so brightly." Teyla shivered and tucked the collars of her military issue winter gloves into the sleeves of the military issue winter coat that Sheppard had given her.

"It's actually colder because it's sunny," Rodney answered without looking up from his scanner. "Heat rises. A thick cloud cover acts like a sort of roof, preventing the heat from rising so high that it stops affecting the surface air. It's still cold, but not as cold. You see, heat is produced when molecules are agitated. They bounce together and move at a higher rate. When that effect is countered, the molecules are slowed, creating cold. The effect of the agitated molecules degrades over distance. Without the cloud cover, that distance is increased."

Teyla looked at McKay with blank confusion, trying to follow his words. Her understanding ended at the clouds acting like a roof. "Thank you… Rodney."

Ronon wore a similar expression. "So it's cold, because the sun is out."

"That's what I said." Rodney frowned. He hated repeating himself.

Sheppard shrugged at Teyla, "But Teyla's right. It doesn't _seem_ right that it should be so cold on such a nice day."

"Oh yes. Clearly physics has it all wrong." Rodney ranted sarcastically, "Winter should be warm and snow should be made of cotton candy."

The physicist had a habit of getting more sarcastic and short-fused the more tired he was, and Sheppard had to admit that he'd and a wringer of a night. But even so, that was rude, "McKay!"

"Sorry." McKay replied genuinely. The sarcastic bite was gone. "Yes it's cold. And yes I can see how sun-shine might be equated with hot days and vacations on the beach. And oh look, we're finally here. And the village isn't a pile of burning rubble. Isn't that nice for a change?"

True to McKay's observation, the village was completely unharmed. The only sign of fire here was smoke billowing from chimneys on the pointed rooftops of warm looking wooden homes.

Icicles decorated the roof tops. And children slid about on the frozen street, playing games. Some of the children wore boots with blades attached to the bottoms, exactly like ice-skates. It reminded McKay of home. That wasn't exactly something he enjoyed being reminded of.

"Something isn't right." Ronon stated with an edge in his voice.

"Ronon is correct," Teyla said as she looked over the familiar buildings, "Where are the adults?"

"Oh great," McKay began, "Like we haven't done the whole Lord of the Flies thing before! We are so cursed."

"I thought you didn't believe in that kind of thing." Sheppard teased.

McKay just frowned forlornly at the romping children, "I'm reconsidering."

"These kids look happy, well taken care of. Maybe the adults are just inside, where it's warm." Sheppard suggested optimistically.

The answering sarcastic grimace from McKay suggested he thought the pessimistic possibilities more likely.

"What's that?" A small voice asked. One of the little girls had wandered over to McKay and was pointing at the scanner McKay had just put in his pocket.

"It's a scanner, not that you'd understand," McKay grumped.

"Why do the lights go off on it when you let it go?" She looked up at McKay with big brown eyes, not bothered at all by his grouchiness.

McKay rolled his eyes in a 'why me' way, and looked to his team for help.

"It is activated by his touch," Teyla answered gently and knelt before the little girl. "What is your name?"

The little girl looked at McKay in amazement before turning back to Teyla and answering, "My name's Neira. And you're Teyla Emmagen. Father said you were coming to visit us. He said you were at my naming ceremony and you held me and you're a good friend so we should not let you into any of the houses and tell you to leave right away. He told Brayne more. But he's with father now and I can't remember it all. Would you like me to go get him?"

Teyla smiled reassuringly at the little girl. She remembered holding her. Had it really been so long since her last visit? "Where is your father now, Neira?"

"He's sleeping. He's been sleeping a lot!" She pouted at this proclamation. Some of the other young children were gathering around them now.

"Where are the other adults?" Teyla asked, but she already feared the worst.

"They're sleeping too." A boy close to Neira's age spoke up. "All they do is sleep now and Brayne says we're almost out of food."

"Don't worry Doran." Neira poked his ribs and he giggled, "They'll wake up soon. They can't sleep forever." She turned back to Teyla and the other adult visitors. "Brayne is the eldest that's awake. I'll go get him. Then you must go back to the ancestral ring. Ok?"

The little girl didn't wait for an answer. Long chestnut curls bobbed behind her all the way to the largest of the buildings.

"This does not bode well." McKay predicted dimly.

Sheppard noticed that he was now keeping a wide distance from the children, and had tucked his scarf firmly over his mouth, muffling his voice.

Worry lines creased the scientist's forehead, "Sheppard, until we know more about what's got every adult in this village in bed I suggest we keep our distance from everybody here."

Ronon regarded the scarf muffling the man's voice, "If we do that, how will we learn more about what's causing it."

"By carefully observing from a safe distance, and asking questions. We could be in danger of infection from some sort of deadly plague!" McKay defended with crossed arms.

The big Satedan actually looked amused at that, "Tie that scarf any tighter and you'll be in more danger from suffocation."

A snicker interrupted whatever retort McKay was preparing. First the cave-man, and now Sheppard was laughing? Was he the only one who saw how serious this was?

Apparently Teyla was on McKay's side this time, as she folded her arms and frowned at their snickering leader, "What is so amusing?"

"I'm sorry!" Sheppard tried and failed to keep a straight face and wiped a tear from his eye, "It's just he looks and sounds like Kenny!"

At this Teyla was truly confused, "Kenny?"

"Yes! There's this cartoon about Canadian's called South Park. One of the characters where's a scarf over his mouth." Sheppard finally managed to get himself under control. "I'll find a copy of it when we get to Atlantis and show you."

"Not if I find it first," Rodney glared.

"Welcome! I am Brayne." A teenage boy that couldn't be older than seventeen jogged towards them, with Neira bouncing behind. Though his hair was cut short, it had the same curl and chestnut colour as Neira's. "I'm sorry we could send no-one to greet you. We had hoped that the destruction of the bridges would be enough to discourage you."

"That was you?" Sheppard asked in surprise. He'd been so sure that the village had been attacked.

"Yes. Thank you for that. It was ever so thoughtful. Of course, not nearly so thoughtful as A SIGN!" McKay yelled animatedly. "You know, like WARNING! Do not come to the village?! Or Enter at Your Own Risk! If you can't write then a skull and cross bones would have done!"

"McKay! Calm down!" Sheppard raised his voice over the cacophony that was McKay in full rant. Amazingly the physicist stopped and settled for crossing his arms and scowling. Sheppard turned back to the boy that seemed to be in charge, "He's just a little grumpy from the climb."

Brayne nodded understandingly, "It is a difficult path without the bridges. Why did you come when the way was made so perilous?"

"We didn't have much of a choice. The Gate isn't working. We think that something up here is causing it." Sheppard explained.

"Gate?" Brayne looked to Teyla for a translation.

"The Ancestral Ring," Teyla explained and understanding dawned on Brayne's face.

"I see." Brayne said gravely. "We would not have destroyed the easy paths had we known. You are fortunate to have made it up here before the Morindar Beasts awakened."

"Yes. Aren't we just?!" Rodney spat venomously.

"Rodney!" Teyla scolded.

"What?!" Rodney gestured innocently. "I'm just saying! A simple sign is hardly a technological marvel even for these cavemen."

"Maybe we can help." Sheppard stepped in front of McKay, blocking him from view, and put on his most friendly smile.

"I wish that you could. A sickness has befallen the adults of all the villages. Even the Healers. We realized too late that their travel from village to village was spreading whatever curse is causing this. They simply fall asleep and will not awaken. Those of us who are old enough have been helping the sleeping to eat and drink as best we can. But it has been difficult."

"Even so, it is good to see you again, Teyla. I know my father wanted your new friends to have a warmer welcome than this." Brayne looked at the newcomers meaningfully.

Teyla realized that with all of McKay's ranting she had forgotten to introduce them, "This is Colonel Sheppard, and Ronon, and Dr. McKay."

"You bring a Physician from the Ancestral City?" The boy looked at Dr. McKay with hope.

"Not that kind of Doctor. I'm a Doctor of Physics, among other things." McKay answered quickly. He then pointedly ignored the look Sheppard gave him.

"But, we'll take a look." Sheppard amended, more to McKay than to Brayne. "There might be something we can do to help."

At which McKay folded his arms and turned to Sheppard, "You realize that 'we' is supposed to be a plural word, don't you?" When the other two team members frowned darkly at him he relented, "I'll do what I can. Starting with shutting off whatever is blocking our communications and gate travel. These people will have a much better chance if we can get Beckett and a full medical team in hazmat suits out here."

Brayne grinned at McKay with gratitude, "Perhaps the magic in one of the objects in the Ancestral Temple is causing this. I will take you there."

"Magic? Oh please." McKay began.

"McKay….not now." Sheppard cut him off and motioned for the team to follow the boy.

As he turned to guide them Brayne half turned as an afterthought, "I should warn you that the curse began when one of the artefacts in the Temple was broken."

"Perfect." McKay griped sarcastically. It figured that there only hope of escape was at ground zero. He waved an arm in the direction that Brayne had been about to lead them, "By all means, please."

The journey was cut short when Neira tugged at Brayne's sleeve, "Brayne wait! I'm hungry."

The boy sighed and knelt in front of her, "I know Leira. But we must be careful with our food now. You know it is nearly gone."

888888888

Several hours later, Rodney was arm deep in an Ancient console in an abandoned Ancient research facility. He was trying to deactivate the force-field blocking access to both the thing creating the energy source, and of course the Z.P.M that had attracted McKay here in the first place. The Universe was taunting him.

What's worse, he had a bad feeling that the system generating the force-field from within the blocked off chamber was completely independent from the systems outside the field. It was how McKay would have designed a system intended to contain an outbreak. He'd already told Sheppard as much. But Mr. Optimism wanted him to try anyway.

The Ancient facility seemed to be dedicated to biological research. So McKay could only assume that the force-field and the pulse affecting the gate were some sort of quarantine system, like the one on Atlantis but on a larger scale. Unfortunately, the quarantine hadn't extended to protecting the villagers. True to form, even the microbes were hostile. McKay knew that if venom spitting squirrels didn't finish him off, a common Pegasus flu probably would.

A brief search for information on what might have gotten out and any simple cure there might be revealed that the data-base had been completely wiped.

So McKay was focussing his efforts on getting that pulse turned off."What are you doing?" A small voice jolted McKay from his thoughts and caused him to zap himself.

"Ow! I'm working." He shook his hand and looked down at not one, but two young faces. Oh for joy.

"On what?" The little girl that had first greeted him in the village asked. What was her name again?

"On this." McKay supplied unhelpfully as he reached back inside the console.

"What's that?" The other one asked. He was a boy, probably about seven.

McKay reached back into the console and felt for the loose crystal he'd been adjusting, "You wouldn't understand."

"Are you fixing it?" The little girl pressed.

Zap. McKay jumped again but didn't pull back, "Guh. Well. I'm TRYING!"

"Can I help?" The little boy peered around McKay and tried to look into the open console.

"Yes!" McKay answered. He was buried too deeply in the console now to see the happy looks on their faces. "By leaving me alone!"

The two small faces fell. The boy wasn't ready to give up though. "I help my Dad keep the mills running for all the villages. He says I have a knack for it!"

_Rodney looked up at the man in the black suit, thrilled to have someone actually interested in all the things he could do, rather than bored or intimidated. "The only really tough part about building the nuclear bomb was getting the parts. I can't believe I didn't win! I'm working on an EM Pulse Generator now… but don't tell my parents, ok?"_

McKay pushed the memory again, angry that it had even come up. "Well isn't that special." His hand finally found the loose crystal again.

"But," The little girl piped in excitedly, obviously wanting to outdo the boy, "I'm the best at…"

_"I see from your records that you do very well in French class, and Spanish, Rodney."_

_Rodney shrugged, "Stuff like that is easy. You just gotta look for patterns. I like to pick up in all sorts of languages from garage sales when I can. I can read German, and Mandarin, and…"_

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" McKay snapped at the girl before she could finish.

"Yes," She answered quietly.

"Yes, and what am I?" McKay shoved the crystal firmly into place and snatched his hand back to avoid the zap this time.

The girl lifted her head defiantly, "You're a friend of Teyla's so you don't count."

"Lucky me," McKay answered sarcastically. He reached for another crystal and squeaked in alarm when the little boy reached for the console. If the kid had the gene McKay would be fried. "Don't touch that!"

The moment's distraction caused another painful, but smaller zap. "Ow! Alright! That's it! Everybody out! NOW!"

Sheppard chose then to appear from wherever he'd been slacking, "It's ok kids. He's just grumpy because he's hungry."

McKay stopped shaking his hand long enough to glower at Sheppard, "You gave all our food away!"

"Because they were starving! And besides, we're fine. You know I didn't give it all." Sheppard answered and mouthed 'not in front of the kids'.

But McKay was oblivious, "Well, now we're starving!"

"No." Sheppard said with laboured patience, "We're rationing."

"I can't think on an empty stomach." McKay wined as he closed up the console and placed his hands on it to initialize it. The two children's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when it lit up at his touch. "Can't we get a-hold of some fruit or something sweet? I get hypoglycaemic you know."

The little girl bounced excitedly at that, "Oh! I know!"

And she ran out of the room, with the boy trailing behind her calling, "Wait for me."

John once had an Aunt that was allergic to cats. The funny thing was that cats seemed to love her all the more for it. If ever there was a cat around it would go straight for her and start rubbing up against her leg. John had noticed that McKay and kids were kind of like that… without the rubbing. It was just one of the weird constants in the Pegasus galaxy. Whenever they were in a village with kids around, they'd go straight for McKay. As for McKay, it was character building. "Ease up McKay, they're just kids."

"They're the hell spawn of the primitive bridge burning people who build their villages around ancient bio-warfare research facilities. And what is with that? Was the Pegasus Galaxy all out of premium Earthquake properties?" McKay banged, more than typed at the controls.

"They're kids." Sheppard repeated.

"They keep asking questions, getting in the way, and touching things!" McKay continued to complain.

"They're kids." Sheppard repeated again.

McKay stopped beating the console and threw an annoyed look at Sheppard, "Would you stop saying that?"

"Well what do you want me to say? They are just kids. And asking questions and touching things is part of what kids do. It's how they learn." Sheppard thought it odd that he had to explain this to McKay. "C'mon. You were a kid once."

"Don't remind me." McKay answered a little too seriously and returned to his work.

His hands worked furiously to bring up new data, which he scanned and refreshed at a rate John found impossible to keep up with. So he settled for just watching McKay while he worked. That last comment he'd made had been weird. It was so tough to keep up with what was going on in his head sometimes.

"I've got it!" The little girl came running in with a small box. She held it up to McKay like a great treasure.

McKay looked at the box suspiciously, "What's that?"

"Elna stone." The girl answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Stones?" McKay repeated.

The girl rolled her eyes, "Don't worry. It's not really stones. It's sweet. Try it."

McKay opened the box and smelled it. It didn't seem to be citrus. He examined the contents. There were lots of little balls, individually wrapped in a wax-coated paper. McKay popped one in his mouth, and smiled at the sugary ball immediately melted over his tongue. "Mmm! These really are sweet. What's it made of?"

The little girl smiled brightly at McKay's positive response, "The Elna bugs make it."

Sheppard grimaced when she held the box up to him, "Would you like some too?"

"Uh… maybe later," Sheppard answered, and took a couple of steps away from the box.

"Then I will leave this here for you, and check on you again later." She smiled especially for McKay.

"Uh… thanks." McKay accepted the box and watched as she skipped away.

Sheppard waited until the girl was gone before making a face at McKay, "And I thought Ronon would eat anything."

"What?" McKay looked at him in confusion and popped another sweet into his mouth.

Sheppard looked away in horror, "Guh, It comes from bugs!"

"Oh," McKay rolled his eyes, "And where does honey come from?"

Sheppard thought for a moment and then folded his arms indignantly, "From a bottle, in a supermarket."

"Oh please," McKay moaned as he turned back to the console.

But, no sooner had he begun to make headway again than did a child no older than five wander in and look up at McKay. It just stood there and watched quietly. And watched… and watched.

He turned a pleading look to Sheppard, his supposed guard, "Please make it stop."

"Stop what?" Sheppard shrugged. As soon as he said it, two boys ducked around the doorway and tossed snowballs at McKay.

McKay straightened, jaw clenched, snow dripping from his shoulder.

"C'mon kids!" Sheppard hollered cheerfully as he picked up the toddler and backed away from McKay, "Uncle Sheppard will tell you a story down in the village, how does that sound?"

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	23. Wizard McKay

Five hours of blessedly undisturbed work later, McKay was quickly running out of options. There was absolutely no way he was getting into the room with the pulse generator or to the Zed P M. Equally impenetrable were the safeguards preventing him drawing enough power away from the room to generate an effective counter pulse. Not only could he not get the Star-Gate working, boosting communications did not appear to be an option either.

It couldn't possibly be any worse. Rodney had not doubt that Sheppard would assume he hadn't tried hard enough. The flyboy didn't know the meaning of the word impossible. And did Sheppard really have to give him that look every single time he delegated work to specialized science team? Even if Rodney did decide to make it known what he could do, he was just one person. He could only be in one place at a time and it was up to him to decide where he should be.

Physics was his chosen specialty. Archaeology was dull. Linguistics was too easy and ultimately useless. Medicine? Even the thought of having to cut into someone made Rodney want to pass out or vomit, even if it was to help them. There was a big difference between intellect and capability. But limits didn't seem to be something Sheppard could understand either.

Realized he'd been letting his mind wander, Rodney berated himself and turned his attention back to the task at hand. His first responsibility was to establish contact with Atlantis. Even if he couldn't get the gate working, at least they could consult with Carson. Then he could try again to get the gate working.

Unfortunately, at this rate by the time he figured out how to do that, if it were even possible, the Daedalus would probably have reached them. A week and a half with these kids while waiting for the Daedalus to get here would be hell. The danger of being infected by whatever nasty experiment had escaped from this facility and put the village to sleep wasn't anything to yawn at either.

"Rodney?" An impossibly tired sounding voice came from the entrance to the Ancient Facility.

He sighed and turned his full attention to the interruption. It wasn't as though there were anything else he could accomplish here anyway. "What? Teyla!?"

Teyla was leaning sleepily against a far wall, Neira and Miller Boy appeared to be helping to keep her up. The sickness must be affecting her, but then why wasn't she with Ronon and Sheppard!? McKay rushed over and waved the two children back. "Teyla, c'mon. I'll get you some coffee."

"It won't help. We have already tried. Colonel Sheppard succumbed some time ago, as did Ronon. I was the last to begin showing symptoms. I have come to warn you to hurry. Many of the older children have also fallen asleep. I have been unable to wake them." Her head lolled, but with effort she kept her eyes open.

Rodney looked at her in horror, "Some time ago?! Well, why didn't you come and get me sooner?!"

"Ronon suggested as much, but you said yourself, Rodney, you are not a medical doctor. When we could not wake Col. Sheppard, I thought your skills would be best used here." With effort, she pushed herself away from the wall and forced herself to remain standing. "How are you feeling?"

"You know me, tired but I still have a few days of work left in me before I crash." Rodney looped an arm awkwardly around Teyla, to support her, and guided her back towards the door. He was kicking himself internally for making Ronon and Teyla believe there was no way he could have helped them out there.

"Where are you taking me? You must deactivate the energy pulse." Teyla tried to turn back to the facility.

"I can't," Rodney confessed, trying not to sound too panicked. He had definitely not expected the other to get sick this quickly. "I tried everything. So I might as well take a look at the problem in the village. Failing that, maybe I can get far enough down the mountain to get a message to Atlantis."

Her eyes popped open at that. Rodney couldn't face those strange beasts alone, "You mustn't."

"Last resort. Believe me. Now would you stop struggling before we slip on the ice?" Rodney meeped when she suddenly became heavier, causing him to slide sideways.

The two children he had shooed caught him and pushed him upright.

"She's asleep now." The little boy informed.

"No, really? I hadn't deduced that myself. Thank you." Rodney's snark seemed lost on the boy as he positively beamed at the mock praise.

The girl scowled competitively at the boy, "Your friends fell asleep much more faster than the other adults. They grew sleepier for weeks before they stopped waking up."

"Hmph," Rodney grunted as he shifted Teyla's weight. To his surprise the two children each took one of her legs. "Now that's helpful."

The children looked at each other in confusion then looked back at McKay, and the girl asked, "Do you mean the carrying or my information."

"Both of course!" Rodney snipped then focussed on keeping his footing as he carried Teyla backwards down the small icy hill and back to the village.

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Neira watched the strange man who had come with Teyla. He was moving between the beds of those who had come with him. First he'd made certain Teyla was warm and comfortable. Then he'd gone to the one with the messy hair. And last to the really big one that had been giving piggy back rides before he fell. That one had hit his head on the ice too. The man checked under the bandages and refastened them.

He'd asked her lots of questions the whole time. Like who was the first person affected, who they came into contact with, anything they touches. She'd answered dutifully. After-all, with Father and Brayne unable to wake up, leadership of the village fell to her.

Teyla and those with her had seemed sure that this man would be able to turn off the Ancestral Magic that was affecting the Ring. So maybe he could help stop the curse too. Neira had decided that the best thing she could do for the village was be helpful for this man.

She had seen the Ancestral artefacts come to life at his touch. And even though he was an adult like the others he seemed completely unaffected by the curse. To do all that, he must be a powerful magician. But he wasn't an Ancestor. He didn't act at all the way she'd expect an Ancestor to behave. All of the children had discussed it at length and had a pretty good idea of what he might be. That was another good reason to believe he could help. But would he? He seemed willing.

The man looked at something he wore on his wrist as he held the messy-haired one's wrist.

"What are you doing?" She asked when he reached a bed with a villager.

He looked at the bed for a moment before gently picking up a bony wrist. The villager had been among the first to fall. "I'm checking their heart rates."

He took a black stick out of his pocket and held open one of the eyes of the villager. Neira watched in amazement as light beamed out of the stick and into the villager's eye. "What's that?!"

"Ugh. It's a flashlight!" he snapped. "In terms you can understand, it's like a candle only without the fire and you can aim it better. Ok?" Whatever he saw in the eyes of the villager, he looked unhappy about it.

The strange man stood and looked over the rest of the hall. Many of the villagers looked as thin and worn as the one he had just examined.

Neira watched his shoulders sagged sadly, "Why are you sad?"

"Because I should have been down here first," he answered. But Neira thought he was talking more to himself than to her.

"Can you help them?" She asked when he seemed to be finished poking and examining all the people, shining his light down their throats and in their eyes.

His expression was grim and at first he didn't answer. "I don't have the right equipment. You people are living in the stone-age here."

The strange man went to the nearest window and looked out with a hopeless expression. He'd told Teyla that if he couldn't fix everything here he'd go down the mountain to contact their people. That must be what he was considering now. If he did that, Neira was certain he would be killed. "You mustn't go down the mountain. Our village is very skilled at crafting. If you tell us what you need maybe we can help you build it?"

"I find that highly unlikely." He turned dismissively from her gentle tug on his sleeve, "Modern medical equipment is highly advanced and very delicate and…"

He trailed off and stared out the window. His expression changed so that his eyes seemed to light up in thought. Neira had to stand on her tip-toes to peek out and see what had his attention. "And what?"

"And are actually not that complicated at all; at least not at their most basic functions. The digital information storage and processing, and laser enhancement is useful but…" He still had that strange far away look, then suddenly he snapped his fingers and slapped his fist into his palm so fast that it his hands blurred.

Neira hoped the strange man was alright. He might be their only hope, "I don't understand."

"No of course you don't. Come with me." He was out the door in a flash, barely waiting for her to follow.

8888888888888

It took less than an hour for Neira to organize all of the supplies on the strange man's list. She was quite proud of that. All the children were pitching in. The man had said to hurry so they tried extra hard. She poked her head into the glass-blowers lodge, and was a bit surprised to see the glass-blowers son standing in the corner pouting.

"You let Toran get the wagon wheel for you," the glass-blowers son wined. "You let Ryn gather the rope. You even let Mikya find the wool and prepare the leather. Why can't I blow the glass? I know how! My father is the glass blower."

"I already told you!" The strange man snapped as he carefully drew the glass from the fire and shaped it using the glass-blowers tools. "You have to be at least as tall as this pole to play with burning hot liquid glass."

He stuck the hot glass on the end of the pole and blew carefully, dumped it into the water bucket and re-fired, "All those degrees and I've been reduced to this."

Only when he cut the finished work from the pole and set it to cool did he notice Neira standing at the door. She couldn't help but bob up and down as she told him how quickly they'd gotten everything. She waited expectantly… and frowned when he said nothing.

"Aren't you going to say I did a good job?" She asked when he began to gather the things he'd made.

"Don't you already know you did a good job?" The strange man replied without even looking at her.

Neira nodded with certainty, "Of course…but!"

"But nothing. If you already know then you don't need anybody to say it. Do you?" He glanced up at her momentarily.

"Um…." Neira thought about it a moment, and then decided he was right. She nodded at him.

Then he was out the door in a flash, after a quick command that both she and the glass-blowers son not touch anything.

"Neira!" The boy wined, "Are you sure he can turn us into toads if we don't do what he says. I didn't see him use any magic at all."

Neira narrowed her eyes at the boy, "You know your father doesn't let you anywhere near the fires. You're just mad because the Morinin already knew that and wouldn't let you blow the glass either."

The boy gasped, "You don't really think he read my mind?! This is horrible. I just know he's going to boil and eat us."

"Don't be stupid!" Neira scolded. "If he was going to do that he would have done it by now. But that doesn't mean he won't turn you into a toad if you go too near the fire. Just because he's not here doesn't mean he can't see you."

The boy backed farther away from the fire and then bolted out the door.

888888888888888

It was late, but the stranger was showing no signs of slowing down. Mikya stifled a big yawn and played with on of her springy red curls. One of the boys would be here to take over for her soon. She couldn't remember which one.

Neira had decided that at least one person should stay with this guest at all times to make sure he has whatever he needs. She guessed it made sense, if he really was what all the other children said he was. Mikya wasn't really sure if being the Elders daughter entitled Neira to be in charge, but the others seemed to be going along with it so…

She yawned again and decided it would be better if she walked around to help her stay awake. The large storage hut next to the mill was now filled with so many strange wonders. The tables along the warmest side of the room held lots of glass dishes with the substance that the strange man had made from powdered wheat. He'd called it 'substitute agar', and refused to explain further. Each one also held a cotton swab.

On another table, glass tubes were carefully balanced, holding the potions he'd made from the blood of the ill. It sent shivers down her spine just thinking about it. The wagon wheel had been made into a spinning the device that could make one liquid turn into two or three different liquids to be separated. She couldn't remember what he'd called it.

"Aha! There you are. You're a fast little guy. That is a pretty damn short gestation period." The strange man was hunched over the apparatus of glass and leather tubing, and talking to it.

"Why are you talking to it?" Mikya whispered so as not to disturb him. He had made her promise to be quiet.

He jumped and almost dropped own of the lenses he was holding under the apparatus. "Would you please not sneak up on me like that?! And why are you whispering?"

"You told me to be quiet." Mikya frowned up at him. If he were as powerful as Neira said he was, surely he would have remembered that.

He glowered at her and then turned back to the thing. "Talking sometimes helps me to think. I've determined that the infection is definitely bacteriological. Only the bacteria is definitely not natural. Of course I already suspected it had been bio-engineered but these guys have been restructured to produce a pretty potent drug. And why am I telling this to Pebbles Flintstone?"

"Because talking helps you to think," Mikya reminded him helpfully.

"Yes… thank you," he frowned at her. "What's interesting is that it took so much longer to reproduce in you people than it did in us. I mean, Sheppard I can understand, he's not from this galaxy. But, neither am I, and I'm not effected at all. And I find it unlikely that you'd have a natural resistance to something that's been biologically engineered."

"You don't expect me to answer you any more than that thing, do you?" Mikya pointed at the glass lensed thing he'd been using.

"No, I don't!" He narrowed his eyes at her again, annoyed at the interruption.

"Good, because you make no sense at all." She narrowed her eyes right back at him. Mikya wasn't afraid of him. Everybody had decided he was harmless anyway, even if their suspicions were right. In fact, she decided that she'd be the one to just ask him. "Are you a Morinin?"

"Am I a what?" He looked genuinely confused.

Mikya supposed he might not be called that anymore. The stories were very old after-all. "A Morinin. They're warlocks with powerful magic and they fought against the Ancestors to drive them away. They're evil, and they're scary, and they eat children."

"No, I'm not a whatever that is! I'm a scientist. What made you ask that?" He actually turned from the dishes he'd been examining and looked at her this time.

"Well…It's not just me. Everybody's saying it." She began to count out the reasons on her fingers, "You're really smart."

He sighed, "And smart means warlock? I told you I'm a scientist."

"And you can make the ancestors magic work." She held up another damning finger.

"It's not magic. It's very advanced science. Look, see…" He motioned for her to look into the device he was using but she continued.

"And you brew potions." Another finger went up.

"Oh for crying out loud." He covered his face with his hands.

"And you're grumpy. Warlocks are all grumpy." Finger number four was held up now.

"I don't believe this!" He looked up as though addressing the Ancestors.

Finally she held up finger number five, "And you like the Elna stone. Everyone knows that Warlocks like sweet things. That's why they eat children."

She moved onto her next hand, "And you haven't been affected by the curse like all the other adults. And you don't even seem very tired at all. Everyone knows that Morinin don't need to sleep."

He took a deep calming breath before addressing her again. "Isn't it past your bed time? You have bed-times on this planet, don't you?"

Mikya reached up and patted him on the shoulder, "It's ok if you are. We think you're different from the Morinin in the stories. You're with Teyla, and you're using your magic to help us, so you must be a good warlock."

He stood and glared down at her angrily, and she backed up a few steps despite her earlier proclamation that she wasn't afraid, "Listen to me you backward little gnome. There's no such thing as magic and I am not a Morin…"

He trailed off and a thoughtful look flashed in his eyes. He wasn't looking

at her anymore. "Morinin… That could be ancient. Nin is a common suffix. Indicating person-hood. Mori….. M'ori…. M' being a somewhat less common prefix… leaving Ori… oh dear."

Mikya felt her flash of nervousness at his anger evaporate into confusion, "You're doing it again."

He looked at her as though just remembering she was there, "Where did you learn these stories? There must be some hard records of it somewhere."

"The stories are painted on the walls of a cave nearby, but the bridges are gone." It seemed odd that he was suddenly so interested in them.

"Alright, that's fine." He waved that idea away with a hand, "There's no time for that. I'll take your word for it. These Morinin, are they the ones that built the temple?"

Mikya nodded. If he was Morinin, shouldn't he know this?

"And the sweet things they liked, was it the Elna stone, besides the children I mean?" He held up one of the sweets.

Mikya nodded. It was actually only the Elna stones that were in the drawings, but everybody knew that Morinin ate naughty children too.

With a sudden snap of his fingers and a slap of his fist into his palm he grabbed one of the strange glass tubes he'd made and set it in a holder over a flame. Soon water was boiling in the tube, and he dropped in one of the stones. It dissolved quickly.

Mikya was watching all of this with great interest when the boy replacing her came in, hair ruffled and face still pillow creased. She recognized him as one who had been visiting from a neighbouring village when the curse began.

The boy's eyes popped open when he saw the room, and the strange man bustling about in it. "What's he doing?"

"I think he's making another potion," Mikya whispered so that the man couldn't hear.

The Morinin, for that's what Mikya had decided he was, strolled past them with the heated vial and held it out the door in the cold night air. One hand stirred it vigorously with a long metal stick. After a few moments he held the back of his hand against the vial, to test the temperature, and brought it back inside.

He carefully poured a small drop out of the vial and into the glass dish under the apparatus. The two children didn't understand what he was doing, but they held their breaths along with him while he looked into the thing. The Morinin smiled.

"What do you see?" Mikya whispered.

"That this is no average honey. The antimicrobial properties go well beyond simple osmotic effect and high P.H. It also contains a powerful narrow spectrum bactericidal and bacteriostatic. Probably an intentional genetic modification, but there's no way to be sure without way better equipment than anything I can build here. There are limits. Your parents don't consume nearly as much of this stuff as you. Hence, they are fast asleep while you're still climbing up the walls. Did Teyla and Ronon have any?" He looked at them only when he asked the final question.

It took a moment for Mikya to realize he was talking to them, she'd been so dazed by all the other strange things he'd been saying. "Teyla had one, and some Elna tea. The big man had just one and nothing else with Elna in it. The other didn't want anything with Elna in it."

"Which is why Sheppard went down first, then Ronon, and finally Teyla." He looked back into his device as he continued, "I need you and the others to gather all of the Elna stones and everything else that's made from this Elna stuff and bring it here while I work on calculating the dosage."

8888888888888

The first thing Sheppard became aware of was a thick heavy fog, and the certainty that he needed to be awake. The certainty brought panic as he struggled through the fog. His limbs felt heavy and his mouth tasted like he'd been frenched by a wraith. Then he could hear children talking, "They're waking up!"

His eyes opened too sluggishly. It took a few blinks for him to focus on the room. It was a long hall. On either side of him, Teyla and Ronon lay on beds looking as groggy as he. Something had caught both their attention though, so he followed their gaze to two young children walking down the rows of beds. They were practicing snapping their fingers and slapping their fists into their hands.

"Where am I?" Sheppard was seriously beginning to doubt he was actually awake.

"You're obviously not fully awake if you're asking stupid questions like that. Here. You're supposed to drink this now." A young, and snarky, voice was followed by a tray set on a table beside his bed. A blue eyed boy scowled at Sheppard, "You better drink it all."

The little girl Sheppard recognized as Neira then went bounding over to Teyla's bed. "Teyla! You're awake! Father is waking up soon too. He's already begun to stir."

Teyla sipped the hot liquid that had been left by her bed to find her voice, "Neira? What has happened?"

Neira smiled brightly, "The warlock you brought found a way to counter the curse using the Elna. I have organized the others to distribute the medicine, and the signal fires were lit to spread news of the cure to the other villages, and there are baskets on ropes that are bringing supplies so we have enough food now."

Teyla smiled encouragingly at the youngest daughter of the Village Elder, "Very good Neira. You have done your father proud."

"I know," the girl shrugged dismissively.

All three team members watched as the girl who at that age should have been craving the praise, dismissed it off hand. It was a positively McKay thing to do. Sheppard realized with horror that they'd all turned into mini-McKay's! By the alarmed look on Teyla's face, and the grim look on Ronon's, they'd observed the same. A brief scan of the room revealed that they were surrounded. Throughout the room, children were carrying trays, and helping those who were ill the longest to eat. Little bits of Rodney's mannerisms seemed to be popping out of each of them. It was scary.

"Uh, Neira? Where's the warlock now?" Sheppard asked once he'd pinched himself just to make certain he was really awake.

"He fell asleep in the lab. I didn't want to wake him." Neira lowered her voice to a whisper as though she could wake him from here. "While you've been laying on your back relaxing for two days he's been doing all the work. He said you do that a lot."

"Lab?" Teyla repeated.

Neira shrugged, "That's what he called it. I'll show you where it is, but you have to promise not to wake him yet." She lifted her head haughtily when she gave the order.

"Ok…" Sheppard agreed simply. He was unsure what else to say to the young mini-McKay. It didn't seem right to snark back the way he would with Rodney.

And, even if Rodney had come up with the cure, what would these kids' parents think? He could picture it now, 'Thank you for curing us, now please never come back.' This was by far going to be the strangest way McKay had ever managed to turn a village against them.

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The sun was bright on the snow and ice. Sheppard shielded his eyes and zipped up his coat. The mountain air was refreshing, and the blast of cold air chased away the last of the sleepy cobwebs in Sheppard's head. Beside him, Teyla and even Ronon huddled deeper into their coats. A glance at the sun told him it was mid-afternoon.

If they'd been out of action for two days, then the Daedalus would already be on its way. Still, with any luck Sheppard hoped that McKay could get the gate working long before they got to Atlantis.

Sheppard turned towards the Temple, fully expecting the lab to be one of the rooms in the Ancient research facility. McKay must have found the Ancients research about this illness there.

But Neira took hold of his sleeve with an exasperated sigh and tugged in the opposite direction. "It's this way. Come on. I don't have all day. Do you think it's easy running a whole town by myself? I'm nine winters old and have no time to play! So chop chop!"

Sheppard nodded numbly at the child, and she let go of his sleeve and marched off.

"This is scary," Ronon observed and followed.

The girl guided them towards the farthest end of the village, where a large mill sat at the side of an enormous crevice. At the far side of the crevice was the second village, and up a great cliff above the edge of the third and final village could barely be seen. It was an impressive view.

Children whom they'd seen playing when they arrived were marching industriously in and out of the mill, carrying small crates between them.

A small sigh reminded Sheppard that he was supposed to be following, not standing and staring at the children.

"They're sending more medicine to the other villages. The Elna wasn't strong enough on its own at first so he made it stronger. It's really disgusting. But once it's in your system you can just have normal Elna. Now, be really quiet. He had a terrible headache after helping us get the rope across where the bridge used to be." Neira pushed open the door to a long lodge that was attached to the mill.

'Uh-oh,' rang through Sheppard's head, but the alarm bell was forgotten when he saw what was in the room.

Teyla's eyes nearly popped out of her head when the surveyed the room. Glass vials, narrow and wide, filled with various coloured liquid decorated the tables. Empty Petri dishes were soaking in a barrel of strong smelling alcohol. And over the alcohol, a strong medicinal smell hung in the air.

What caught Sheppard's eye was the horizontal wagon wheel that was roped to some gears and had vials tied around the edge. He gripped what appeared to be a handle and pushed. The wheel spun to life at the slightest nudge, lifting the vials. It was a centrifuge.

Teyla lifted a microscope off of a table and carried it over to Sheppard, "I have not known the people of this planet to have technology like this!"

"Maybe McKay built it," Ronon suggested. He too was examining something in the corner.

Teyla moved back to the vials of coloured liquid, "Can Rodney have done all this?"

"Why not?" Ronon shrugged, "He made that sun-screen he uses every-time we go to a planet with a little sun. That's chemistry. He knows Wraith technology. That's biology." When Sheppard stared at him strangely he added, "I'm from an industrialized planet."

"Right," Sheppard found it easy to forget that for some reason. Ronon just didn't seem like the sort he'd expect to find in Starbucks or strolling down Main Street. Well… maybe in New York.

A quiet groan came from the corner beside the table Teyla was examining and the three team-mates went to find Rodney just waking up. A blanket had been tucked around him and a stuffed doll rested against his side, probably the work of the children.

"Rodney?" Sheppard knelt in front of him, remembering the alarm bells news of the headache had set off. "How's your head?"

"Better… not great, but better…Sheppard?" Rodney's eyes snapped open and he looked blearily up at his team mates. "You're awake!" He scrambled for his watch. "Three hours!"

"Slow down!" Sheppard caught McKay when he stood too quickly, "Finish waking up before you try walking. And then maybe you could get us caught up?"

Rodney pushed away from the close contact and leaned against the wall, "Right." He blinked and rubbed his eyes, "The sickness that spread through the villages and affected you was a bacteria. It was designed specifically to put the victim to sleep indefinitely. It's a biological weapon. And before you ask something stupid like why the Ancients would make something like that, can we all think of one group of life sucking aliens we'd like to go back to sleep for a really long time?" He picked up speed as he was talking and seemed to wake up properly, by the calculating look on his face as he surveyed the room. "Anyway, the reason I wasn't affected is because of the candies I was eating. Mother always said honey was good for fighting colds. It's got some sort of anti-bacterial properties. So I figured, why not try it? Right?"

John rolled his eyes, and Ronon levelled a disbelieving look at Rodney. Teyla narrowed her eyes suspiciously and looked again at the thing Sheppard had called a centrifuge.

"We're, uh, lucky it was such a simple solution this time and we didn't need Carson after all. Eh?" Rodney smiled that way that always made him lose at team poker night, and didn't seem to be aware he was holding his breath.

Having genius come so easily to him seemed to sometimes make it difficult for McKay to judge what should and shouldn't seem complicated to other people. Usually he over-estimated his team's intelligence, which could be frustrating. And sometimes he underestimated it, like now, which was a little insulting.

"Right," Sheppard swallowed his annoyance, they could break it to Rodney that they weren't buying any of it later. "Any luck getting the gate working or contacting Atlantis?"

Rodney released the breath he'd been holding and bounced on his heels, clearly convinced that they'd bought it. "Not yet but I expect that once the bacteria is all dead the shield will drop, I hope."

"Good. Then we should probably go help the kids distribute the medicine." Sheppard turned and headed toward the door, and Ronon followed. Teyla didn't look happy about dropping it, but reluctantly turned to follow.

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Disappointment was the last thing Rodney had expected to feel when his team believed him. Could they really be that dumb?

Teyla looked at him a moment longer before turning to follow Sheppard. Teyla had waited until she could barely stay awake before she came to get him.

He wasn't even sure why he'd lied to them. What reason could he possibly have not to trust them? "Wait."

Sheppard and Ronon paused at the door. Teyla turned to face him with laboured patience, her jaw set, "What is it, Rodney?"

He looked away from the angry look she gave and studied a spot on the floor. He should have known she knew. She could be surprisingly intelligent. "I'm sorry, Teyla." He blurted it without really thinking about what he was saying, "I shouldn't have let you think that I couldn't help. You are a smart and trustworthy and good person and I treated you like you weren't. It's not that I don't trust you. Ok, it is that I don't trust you. But it's not that I don't want to trust you and it's not because I think you're untrustworthy because I don't. And my secrets aren't worth your lives, or anyone's. It's just difficult and complicated and I have no idea what I'm saying right now this is totally unplanned."

When Teyla and the others didn't say anything Rodney looked up. They were scrutinizing him. Well, this was awkward. He replayed his words in his head in case he'd said something terribly insulting. He sometimes did that with women.

But before he could finish Teyla walked back over to him with a challenging look. Rodney flinched, prepared to be slapped. "Perhaps you should begin by explaining to us what you have been running from. What are you frightened of?"

Telling them was easier than he'd expected.


	24. Home

As predicted, the shield had dropped once the sickness had been wiped out. Recovery would be slow for some of the first to fall ill, but thanks to Dr. McKay they would recover. An engineering team and a medical team had both been promised by Col. Sheppard to help rebuild the bridges and provide care for the recovering villagers.

In return for all this, the Village Elders were more than happy to welcome the people from Earth into their family of allies. They would be granted full access to the Ancestral Temple any time they wished, although the ZPM was nearly depleted to Dr. McKay's dismay.

They were now on their way back to the gate, and had planned to reach home long before nightfall. She and Ronon had taken point once again, but they walked as one group rather than two. Though she tried to focus on watching for possible threats, Teyla found her mind kept wandering back to what she had learned of Rodney. In the midst of helping the villagers and the need to contact Atlantis there had been little time to process the information.

She could understand a planet as vast as earth having people like the Genii, secretive and power-hungry. Teyla was not so naïve that she could not understand that earth had such people as those that had misused Rodney. But surely he must see that nobody on the Atlantis expedition, even had Dr. Kavanagh remained, would have considered exploiting him in such a way. He was foolish if he thought they would, and she had told Rodney as much.

But what truly concerned Teyla, was how these evil people had gotten him in the first place, and that nobody sought to save him.

There were many ways in which earth culture differed from not only Athosian culture, but from every other culture in the Pegasus Galaxy. From the beginning, bedtime stories that Colonel Sheppard would tell with the intention of frightening the Athosian children had shown Teyla that Earth truly knew no terror that could compare to the Wraith.

From her conversations with Dr. Weir, Teyla had learned that Earth had a great many diverse cultures, languages, and beliefs. The absence of culling's had allowed their population to grow enormous. Teyla had also learned that in the absence of a threat such as the wraith they fought amongst one another. It had been Dr. Weir's job to prevent or negotiate an end to such disputes.

It had seemed petty to Teyla. These people had no understanding of the true threats in the universe. Now she had learned of another difference the absence of the Wraith had created in Earth culture. In Pegasus, valuing and protecting children were a necessity of survival. They were not to be traded or passed to other communities for misbehaving. If anyone in her village had treated their child as a sack of poor grain, as Rodney's parent's had, they would have been ostracised.

Learning of this renewed Teyla's own appreciation for her people, and especially for the woman of her village who had taken her in when her father died, Charin.

Teyla found the lack of anger that Rodney seemed to have towards his parents for tossing him away to be disturbing. He seemed more ashamed of what had been done to him, than offended by it.

Now, when there was no chance of their conversation being overheard by others of Atlantis, seemed the best time to continue questioning him. She slowed her steps until she was standing beside him. Rodney didn't seem to notice as he had the back of the ancient scanner opened and was fiddling with it as he walked.

"What are you doing?" Teyla peered over his arm to see the array of tiny crystals and wires.

He barely looked up as he answered, "When I reconfigured it to emit a small energy pulse and configured it back to scan for life signs I was in a bit of a hurry. I'm just checking the connections and, you know, making sure it's completely right before I get it back to Atlantis."

"You mean so Zelenka can't tell you were messing with it when you tell him not to." Sheppard teased.

"Well yes." Rodney scowled at Sheppard but admitted, "There's that too."

Teyla observed the deep concentration. "I find it difficult to understand that your parents were not thrilled to have such an intelligent son."

The look of concentration evaporated. At first he looked like he might say something snippy, then Rodney seemed to realize it was Teyla and he looked half-heartedly back to the scanner. "I was a hand full. Actually, I was pretty difficult to handle. Impossible even. I mean the things I could do just weren't the sort of thing a normal family could possibly be equipped to handle. I was always getting into trouble."

"Was?" Ronon quipped in one word. He shrugged when Teyla threw him a glare.

"Oh, har har." Rodney snarked back, more comfortable with the normal banter than the serious conversation.

But Teyla didn't want to drop this now. She touched Rodney's arm to make him look at her. "Is that why this 'CIA' did not try to find you another family? Did they think you would be too difficult?"

"No!" Rodney looked at her and seemed to understand what her concern was. "Teyla, don't think that this is the norm for my planet. The people who found me wanted to put me in a safe-house with a family and a new identity. I wasn't interested so I ran away. When they finally caught me again I made it clear that the only way they were going to hold onto me was if they gave me other options."

"But why? You should not have been working for this CIA at your age. It should have been their responsibility to help you, not the other way around. A child should be in a loving home and made as safe as is possible." Teyla frowned at him in genuine confusion.

Her friend scoffed bitterly, "Safety is an illusion. The majority of accidents occur in the home and the majority of murders are committed by people whom the victim knew and stupidly trusted. Case in point, do you have any idea how many cleaning products contain citrus? Hmm? Besides, I didn't want their help. I wanted my freedom."

"Sounds like a normal teenager to me," Ronon observed.

Col. Sheppard nodded his agreement, "Pretty much… except for the acute paranoia."

"Oh please!" Rodney gave up all pretence of working on the scanner and rounded on Ronon and Sheppard, "You are not comparing me to a common teenager! I could make Atomic bombs! How could any family hope to understand or cope with THAT no matter how nice they were? And I am NOT paranoid. I'm just educatedly cautious."

Col. Sheppard shrugged unflappably, "I once knew a kid who could make potato canons. He used to shoot cows with it. I knew another kid who liked to make stink bombs. He'd set them off in class."

Rodney sighed and rolled his eyes.

Ronon actually smiled reminiscently, "I once put a doranthile bomb in my neighbours kitchen."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Ronon before asking, "A what?"

Teyla looked at Ronon is awe, "It is a very foul and near impossible to remove substance."

Ronon's smile only broadened at the description.

"Bad neighbour?" Sheppard simply asked.

"That is hardly comparable." Rodney snipped before Ronon could go into detail.

"Maybe it is." Sheppard suggested with another relaxed shrug. "I'm just saying that boys like to make things that go boom. Your things could just make bigger booms."

"I can't believe how simplistic you are." Rodney grumped.

"Well, often the simplest answer is the right one." Sheppard answered sagely, "You're still only human Rodney. No matter how smart you are. And Teyla is right, your parents sucked. And they're the ones that shouldn't be considered the norm for earth."

"Of all the…" Rodney glared angrily at Sheppard and jabbed a finger at the Colonel's chest, causing him to step back in surprise. The finger hovered there as Rodney's brows furrowed in confusion. "Something's not right…anger and…"

His eyes widened and he turned until his finger pointed towards one of the mountain ranges. "They're awake, they're angry, and they're coming this way!"

Ronon's gun was out and aimed in a flash. "I thought they were nocturnal."

"Well, they're making an exception for us! Something about me is drawing them out." Rodney snapped as he backed away. "There must be hundreds of them."

"Hundreds?!" Teyla repeated, her gun not quite out of her holster. "It is still at least a mile to the gate."

"Run." Sheppard commanded.

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The Gate Room was quiet, as it often was when a team was overdue and there was nothing to be done but wait. Elizabeth would sit at her desk for a few minutes, then get up and wander to the window. She knew that if anything happened she would be contacted immediately, but it didn't stop her from finding reasons to wander over to the control level, or anywhere to keep the gate in view.

The smug tone in Colonel Caldwell's voice when Elizabeth had taken up his offer for help had been difficult to swallow. He'd be courteous enough…on the surface. But most of what people communicated was rarely on the surface. There was a lot about that man that Elizabeth just didn't like, or trust. Still, he was going to get SGA1 home, and that's what counted.

The familiar sound of the gate coming to life broke into her thoughts and sent her jogging for the gate room.

"It's Colonel Sheppard's IDC," the Canadian Tech called out.

Elizabeth felt herself grin, "Lower the shield."

But her elation at finally hearing from them was short-lived.

'Atlantis! We're coming in hot! Be ready to shoot anything that comes in after us!' Sheppard's voice commanded frantically over the sounds of gunfire.

'I've got McKay!' the gruff voice was recognizably Ronon's.

'I'll cover you. Go!' Teyla yelled.

A small army of twenty gate-room security and a team that had been in stand-by surrounded the gate. Lorne motioned for Elizabeth to get back.

A heart-beat passed before Ronon came running sideways through the gate, with his gun aimed behind him, and half-carrying Rodney under his free arm. He dropped McKay unceremoniously at the feet of the marines then turned his full attention to the gate.

Close behind him, Teyla and Sheppard backed through the gate with P90's aimed. Elizabeth didn't have to wonder what was chasing them for long as two cat-like creatures, one made of lightening, leapt through the gate and were immediately shot dead to the ground. The energy creature vanished, leaving only the cat-like corpse behind.

"Raise the shield!" Elizabeth commanded before anymore could follow through. The gate shield popped and fizzled with the impact of whatever had been attacking her people.

With the shield raised, the marines let her back through. She went to Rodney first. He was conscious, but looked in pain as he moved to a crouching position and held onto the floor as though it would move out from under him. His eyes were open but unfocussed.

When the shield finally stopped fizzling, the liquid wormhole evaporated and the gate shut down. Sheppard lowered his weapon and joined Elizabeth beside Rodney, "McKay?"

He shook Rodney's shoulder and looked relieved when the scientist gripped his arm.

"Back up! Give 'im some room now. Can't ye see he's got a nasty concussion?!" Carson's voice came from behind the line of soldiers. He must have rushed down as soon as he'd heard the gunfire. He was already with Rodney. One of the nurses he'd brought moved to assist him. When he waved the nurse away to check on the others, Elizabeth realized that Rodney had no such concussion.

In aid of drawing attention away from Rodney, Elizabeth turned to Sheppard, "Are you alright? What happened on the planet? Why weren't you able to check in? What was that thing?"

"That was the night life, which apparently CAN come out during the day after-all." Sheppard shrugged, willing himself not to look too concerned about McKay as Carson slipped out with him. "They just don't normally like to. As for the rest, it's sort of a long story."

"I understand," Elizabeth nodded. "Why don't you finish getting checked over and then you can come debrief me. I have a call to make to the Daedalus."

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"Carson! Stop it!" Rodney wined loudly and dodged the needle, "No! … No means no! Get off me you sheep farmer! OW!"

The frustrated Scotsman grabbed hold of the struggling mans arm and jabbed a needle in to draw blood, "It wouldn't hurt as much if ye did nae struggle!"

Carson definitely wasn't chosen for the Atlantis mission for his bed-side manner.

Rodney winced and stopped trying to pull his arm away, "I'm fine! You've run absolutely every test imaginable. I'm fine! I was just a little disoriented. Having something like a hundred aliens dieing in my head does that."

Curiosity momentarily won out over the physician's anger, "What was it like?"

"I just told you! Disorienting!" Rodney repeated snidely. He obviously didn't want to go into detail. "And you're not going to find anything in my blood! Can I please go now?"

"Oh that's right, I almost forgot." Carson yanked the needle out of his patients arm and tossed on a cotton swab for Rodney to hold, "Ye don't need ME to give ye a diagnosis now, do ye? Ye'd just rather play stupid and let the rest of us fumble around like bloody idiots. Ye'r lucky Dr. Weir is so very understanding."

The patient let out a laboured sigh as he clung to the bit of cotton that was holding in his blood, "I already said I was sorry."

"Now, ye listen to me." Carson hissed as he slapped a bit of tape over the cotton, "As far as the rest of this city is concerned you're recovering from a concussion. So, you're staying right there until I say otherwise."

Rodney winced again at the rough handling and muttered, "This is so not fair."

"Serves ye right ye great liar!" Carson shook the pointy end of the now blood filled needle at Rodney, "And now ye've got me lieing for ye! What would mother say?"

"Ugh," Rodney groaned, while keeping his eyes glued on the needle being shaken dangerously at him, "Now that's just sad, as in a pathetic sort of way."

Carson carried on as though his patient had said nothing at all, "And I cannae believe how reckless ye were! Do ye still have a headache?"

"No!" Rodney snapped quickly when Carson produced a potent vial of pain medication. "You're the one that insisted I practice."

"Gradually! And in controlled conditions where I can bloody well monitor you! And ONLY to help gradually reduce the migraine's induced. I think it's like learning to use a disused muscle. It cramps up at first. I told ye it's too dangerous to try on yer own. So what do ye do? You go throwing ropes across chasms!

"I cannot believe you just compared MY brain to a disused muscle!" Rodney exclaimed, utterly scandalized, "And I already told you! I didn't throw it. I just accelerated the momentum exponentially so it would reach. It was more of a nudge than a throw really."

The glare Carson shot him could have sent a Wraith running.

Rodney shrank back, "... I promise not to do it again…"

Carson folded his arms.

Rodney tried again, "…..I'll stick to light duty for the day."

The physician heaved a sigh.

Sensing weakness, Rodney barrelled onward "…. I'll man the sensors in the gate room, and compress the data files, and…"

Carson rolled his eyes and pointed at the door, "Just go."

A breeze wafted through the room as Rodney shot out the door.

"And I expect you to keep an eye on him." Carson said sternly as he turned to where the Colonel had been standing very quietly by.

"Sure thing, Doc." Sheppard edged slowly around and away from the irate physician before speed-walking out the door after Rodney.

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Taking it easy didn't quite go as planned. McKay's idea of taking it easy by 'manning the sensor's' had somehow ballooned to involve a complete over-haul of the program. The amusement of the other staff on duty in the control room was not lost on Colonel Sheppard. It was a pretty usual site to see McKay back to work a little too shortly after being in the infirmary. It was an equally usual for John to be seen following Rodney around for at least half a day to make certain he took it easy and was alright.

Within minutes of watching the monitor, McKay became bored. He began to wonder if the sensors could reach farther.

"McKay… what are you doing?" Sheppard drawled from where he'd been chatting with a couple of marines.

"Hmm?" the 'resting' physicist responded distractedly as he scrolled through an impossible amount of information. "I just had a thought." He commandeered a second lap top from an unsuspecting technician and set it beside his own. Soon it was scrolling information in Ancient.

"What's that?" Sheppard left the two marines and leaned over McKay's shoulder when he didn't explain further. It always started this way.

"It's the programming for the long range sensors." McKay answered but waved Sheppard away dismissively. "I need another lap-top."

A scientist with her hair pulled back in a pony tail wordlessly handed McKay the requested lap-top. Sheppard glanced at her and pointed a finger at the now three lap-tops. "You're supposed to be taking it easy."

"Then stop distracting me and it will be easier!" McKay snipped.

"McKAY!" Sheppard answered warningly.

His scientist finally sighed and turned away from the lap-tops. "Oh, come on. It won't take very long! And if I'm right we'll be able to see further. It will be so much more interesting."

"Rodney, no! You're supposed to be… how much further?" The tactical benefit of that would obviously be good. Plus it would be neat.

Rodney shrugged excitedly, "Want to find out?"

An hour later, Rodney was at the top of a very tall ladder, with Sheppard and and Lorne holding it steady. The physicist's entire upper body had disappeared deep inside a large open panel. A nervous looking technician was a little bit lower on another ladder, and handing tools to McKay as requested.

Sheppard was sending up silent prayers that Elizabeth didn't choose then to walk in. How did he let this happen? At least he had good intel that Carson was on the Mainland with Teyla. A good friend of Teyla's, Charin, was ill. He hoped she was going to be ok. Teyla wasn't really close to very many of her people. John knew that Charin was probably the one person made Teyla feel at home among her people.

"Isn't McKay supposed to be taking it easy today?" Lorne asked innocently, with a not so innocent smile. Sheppard was reminded that Carson was going to kill him.

"All done!" McKay hollered. Then he came down the ladder and scampered back over to the sensor display. "Ooo! Hive ships! That's better."

"Better?!" Lorne whispered to Sheppard in alarm.

John shrugged and chased after McKay, "How is that better, exactly?"

"Relax," Rodney scoffed. "There's only two and they're not even close. Look, see!" He hit a few keys and the map zoomed out to show Atlantis' planet and its relative position in the galaxy compared to the Wraith Ships.

"Not bad!" Sheppard praised. They ships were indeed way out there, barely at the edge of the solar-system. The sensors had been given a powerful boost. He looked back to McKay and was dismayed to see a distant thoughtful look in his 'resting' friend's eyes. "Now what?"

"I was just thinking…." McKay answered distractedly as he turned back to his lap top.

Sheppard rolled his eyes and steeled himself. This time he was going to know what he was getting into before he let McKay get started. "Is that leaning back with a cup of coffee 'thinking' or three more lap-tops and a screwdriver 'thinking'?"

"Huh?" McKay half turned, "Uh, something in-between…but more towards the coffee."

"Ok, then continue." That was definitely better in Sheppard's book, but he decided to stay close just in case.

McKay typed quickly for a few minutes then pushed away from the lap-top and stood.

Sheppard moved quickly to block him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just going to that console over there!" McKay pointed innocently to a near-bye console.

Sheppard folded his arms and didn't budge.

"Oh, for crying out-loud!" McKay grumped and slumped back down. "You with the hair," he snapped his fingers at the Canadian gate technician. "Press the blue button, then the red one, then the yellow one."

The technician reached over to the console and obediently pressed the buttons. The sensor display changed. The little planets and stars now had softly glowing rings, and the two hive ships had little lines between them.

"Now that's interesting!" McKay grinned smugly and leaned back comfortably in his seat. "They're firing at each-other."

It had looked like the physicist might settle down then. Less than an hour after reporting the discovery to Elizabeth, Sheppard had resigned himself to following the scientist down the halls of Atlantis while he tried to do about twenty 'small restful' tasks at once. John supposed the high energy levels were a good sign.

At least this was more restful than being chased by freaky aliens. Besides, Atlantis wouldn't be home without McKay bouncing around it.

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	25. Oh Crap

Dr Sally Parker kept her eyes locked on one of the monitors in the control room. Dull black hair pulled back in a limp pony tail, as always. Her plain features drew as little attention as they always did.

Dr McKay had hardly even noticed when she'd gracelessly bumped into him in the halls and slipped a small transmitter into his pocket. He'd been completely engrossed in his conversation with Colonel Sheppard, and then by seeing Cadman. Only a day after coming through the gate with a near-crippling concussion and Dr. McKay was back to work. It was so obvious that Sheppard had been told to watch over the work-a-holic.

It didn't seem right. Not when her God had given the task of watching over McKay to others, like her. And not when Sheppard was the one taking Dr. McKay to dangerous places. She was going to put him someplace safer.

That was why Sally sat waiting now, trying to look busy in case anyone actually bothered to look her way, as Dr McKay finished compressing the research data for today's transmission to earth. She knew she should feel sorrow at the impending death of so many of her colleague's, or the very least elation at this opportunity to serve her master. But instead her emotions were numbed, as they had been for so long now. Dimly she though it was fortunate that at least Dr. Zelenka and his team were off-world. They would remain safe with those children under the protection of the Ancient device.

She didn't know why her master needed Dr. McKay. All that mattered was that McKay belonged to Him, and she would giver her life to deliver Him. Sally reached into her pocket and gripped the remote that would lock onto the transmitter she'd planted on McKay, readying herself as the count-down to worm-hole activation began. He would be sent safely to a waiting ship.

Five – four – three – two

Her breath held as she moved to press the button that would spare McKay's life.

"STOP!" a panicked shout reverberated through the room and stabbed through Sally's muted emotions, freezing her hand in place. She turned and stared at McKay, as everyone else in the room now did. The panicked shout had been his. His hand was still reaching towards the dialling device as though to stop it by sheer will.

Sally watched as McKay allowed himself a sigh of relief before barking out orders, "Clear the dialling sequence and lock the dialling device. As in ten minutes ago. No one dials in or out. Move now!"

"Rodney? What on earth?!" Dr. Weir was at his side.

"The Daedalus just forwarded a transmission from earth. There's a bomb, the trigger is the gate." He took off his jacket and went down to personally examine the gate. Did he have no sense of self-preservation?

Cautiously so as not to attract notice, though all eyes were clearly on McKay, Sally removed her hand from the remote. Her orders were clear. McKay was only to be taken away the instant before Atlantis was destroyed.

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'Crap.' That had been Goa'uld Caldwell's first thought when he received an unexpected call from earth, asking that he warn Atlantis of the bomb. He had made contingency plans in case Atlantis, meaning McKay, managed to find his tampering on their own. But he had expected there to be no way for Earth to contact the Daedalus and Atlantis.

He checked his watch. The Mothership was supposed to arrive any minute now to engage the Daedalus. It had been carefully arranged to take place when the Daedalus was out of contact with both Earth and Atlantis. In case of the very unlikely event that Atlantis found a way to get a message out before being destroyed. Now he was stuck in communications range with both. If the Mothership attacked now, both Atlantis and Earth would be tipped off about the presence of a Mothership near the Pegasus Galaxy. That would pretty much destroy the entire ruse.

"Colonel Caldwell," the Asgard voice grated on his already frayed nerves.

"What?" Goa'uld Caldwell snapped.

Hermiod narrowed his big black eyes and blinked, "Dr. Weir asks that we return to Atlantis immediately so that the crew may be questioned regarding the bomb."

It took effort for Goa'uld Caldwell not to smile at that. The arrogant woman had provided him with an escape. The Mother Ship would see that the Daedalus was not here and move to the delivery point.

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-Earth – Cheyenne Mountain

One of the larger labs in Cheyenne Mountain had been set up to allow all available scientists to brain storm about where a bomb might be planted in Atlantis and how it could be triggered by the gate. Men and women in white lab-coats crowded around computer monitors and leaned over schematics that had been spread out on tables. Some looked thoughtful. More were bickering quietly.

Sam had set up her own lap-top at a free table and was pouring over the power distribution system schematics that McKay had sent, but her mind wasn't on it. She really didn't think that anyone here had the necessary experience with Atlantis' systems to solve this problem. As much as Sam hated to admit it, that included her.

The whole situation was just weird. For one, what could have changed to cause the Trust to suddenly switch from being so very interested in McKay, to not caring if he gets blown up? It just seemed odd for them to have suddenly lost interest in him. Could whoever planted the bomb have gotten all the information they wanted about McKay while they were there?

Actually, to plan all this they must have known about Atlantis, and that McKay was there, for quite some time.

And this supposed 'increased chatter' among the Trust hadn't come up at all in McKay's program. Also, an 'increase in chatter' just seemed sloppy. …Unless this was another manipulation and they wanted the SGC to know that Atlantis was going to be destroyed. If they wanted everyone to think McKay was dead this would be the virtually fool-proof way. Nobody would be left to suggest otherwise. Nobody would go looking for him. The Goa'uld hadn't lost interest in McKay! They wanted him so badly they were willing to blow up Atlantis to get him!

Sam stood suddenly, drawing all eyes in the room. The chatter amongst the scientists stopped as they all waited to see what brilliant solution the amazing Col. Carter had come up with. She snatched the phone off the wall and pressed the button that would connect her with General Landry. "General. The bomb is a distraction."

'You mean there isn't a bomb after-all?' Landry sounded almost hopeful.

"No. There is a bomb. But I think they're destroying Atlantis so they can get away with McKay without anyone looking for him. We have to warn Atlantis that it's a trap." Sam tried to ignore the stares of the other scientists.

General Landry sighed, 'Even if that's the case, there's nothing we can do now. The Daedalus has moved out of communications range. They've headed all the way back to Atlantis. I was about to come down to you all and tell you to call it a day.'

"Dammit! I mean, I understand Sir. Thank you." She grimaced in frustration and hung up. When she turned around, the entire room was still watching her expectantly. "The Daedalus has returned to Atlantis. There's nothing more we can do to help."

A chorus of 'oh' rippled through the room, and a few people began to gather their things.

"Uh…" One of the scientists looked confused, "Why would the Goa'uld want Dr. McKay?"

"Ya. I mean, have they MET him?" Another scientist quipped snidely.

They all looked to Sam, who shrugged clue-lessly. She hoped her nervousness didn't show. She was a terrible liar.

Dr. Lee snapped his fingers as a thought came to him, "If they're destroying Atlantis to keep the Wraith from getting to this Galaxy, then they must want Dr. McKay because of his knowledge of Wraith Technology."

"Ah!" The scientist's heads bobbed in agreement and filed out of the room, satisfied with that answer.

Sam let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Calling General Landry in front of them had been risky, but time had been crucial. Just how crucial time had been was evidenced by the fact that she was already too late.

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-Atlantis – Pegasus -

All pretence of McKay taking it easy today had gone up in smoke the moment they'd learned there was a bomb in Atlantis. He was moving with single-minded purpose. After checking the gate thoroughly, McKay had begun pouring over the city schematics.

"We should start by looking for anyplace where a bomb or bombs could be strategically placed, where it would be triggered by large amounts of power going to the gate. In short, accessible high voltage power conduits." Rodney pointed to several areas on the map and started giving detailed directions on how to get there.

Sheppard pointed to each assembled team and motioned for them to go as the areas were listed.

When only Sheppard and Ronon remained, Rodney shoved a palm-pilot into Sheppard's hand, "This is a list of the remaining areas. It's long. I've divided it into groups systematically so that each of the teams you've already sent will be in an efficient position to proceed."

"Thanks," Sheppard pocketed the palm pilot, but didn't leave. Something felt off about leaving McKay anywhere alone right now.

Rodney moved to another set of schematics, turning his back fully on Sheppard and Ronon, "Why are you still here?"

"The Trust knows about Atlantis," Ronon rumbled. "That means they know where you are. Doesn't that worry you?"

"It terrifies me," Rodney confessed. For an instant fear flashed through his eyes, before his jaw set and he glowered at Ronon, "But I'll worry about that AFTER I stop the city from blowing up."

Sheppard felt like he should probably try to say something comforting before heading out into the city, "The bright side of all this is if they're willing to blow you up with the rest of us, they must have lost interest again."

McKay faltered and gulped, "Not so bright! But thanks for trying. I think maybe I'll go to the control room, where the people are."

That made sense. It would probably be best if McKay wasn't on his own, just in case whoever planted the bomb was still around. Wait, why was McKay working alone? "Hey, wait a minute. Didn't I tell you to get Cadman to help you?"

"Yes yes," McKay grumped, "I'm sure she's somewhere doing something useful."

"McKay!" Sheppard balked, "Would you stop being freaked out by her long enough to give her a chance?"

McKay grimaced, "Yes, fine. I'll get her to meet me in the control room."

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He was arrogant, and dismissive, and rude, and horrible, and Laura Cadman wanted to strangle him! Every single tiny attempt she had made at breaking some ice to make it easier to work with that man had been shot down. That's right Laura, tell Mr. Umpteen doctorate Physicist that you can tap-dance. That's sure to impress. That'll loosen him right up. You were in his head, he doesn't HAVE a loose setting.

She glared at the monitor as she scrolled through the access logs. Mr. 'So-much-smarter than everyone else you peon's couldn't possibly help' had discovered that the 'bomb' was actually a program designed to make the Z.P.M explode. So while the Ego who shall not be named worked on disabling the program, Cadman was checking the access logs whether he liked it or not. She allowed herself a moment to scowl in his direction and immediately regretted it.

They had less than fifteen minutes left before the city exploded. When the gate didn't dial to create the overload, the city had sent a signal to call the Wraith ships. Raising the shield was intended to cause an overload but he who she was still determined to stay mad at had managed to keep the power levels below overload. So when that didn't blow up the city the Star-drive had been activated. Now they were screwed. Nobody had had a chance to figure out whether it was being done by the program or by a saboteur.

But now, instead of frantically working to break the code, the big sap kept staring at the interrogation room. Kavanagh was the prime suspect. Ronon had just gone in. Rodney scratched absently at his forearm and looked terribly like he wanted to march into that room and stop Ronon.

"Rodney," Cadman reminded gently, "the code."

He jumped and quickly turned his attention back to the code, "Right."

He wasn't a bad guy. Not really. He was just strange. The short time Cadman had spent trapped in his head had been eye-opening. She couldn't read his mind or anything like he seemed to be afraid of. But she was forced to feel everything he did, which was way weird. She wouldn't have believed anyone could be so afraid all the time and still function like it was normal.

She pushed away the distracting thoughts and forced herself to focus on sifting through the data. Laura only half listened when Dr. Weir came over and started talking to Rodney. Ten minutes left, they were going to start evacuating.

All thoughts of Rodney, his ego, and the weirdness of being in his head vanished as Laura's eyes fell on Colonel Caldwell's access codes. Oh god. It was Caldwell?! "Dr Weir, Rodney! I think I found something."

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He'd been fighting for so long to take control of his body, move his own hands, command his own voice, to scream. Steven Caldwell woke with the singular knowledge he'd woken with every day. He had to regain control. He had to stop the Goa'uld. He moved to take a deep breath, and amazingly his lungs filled with more air. He tried to open his eyes, and they opened. The infirmary on the Daedalus greeted him.

"Colonel Caldwell," Steven turned his head, his head actually turned when he commanded it, and was faced with an Asgard. "You should not be awake yet. I have successfully removed the Goa'uld from your body."

"Hermiod?" He couldn't think who else it would be. But the Asgard did all look alike to him. He winced at the effort of talking. His throat felt hoarse and dry.

"Yes." Hermiod answered. He seemed annoyed by the question. "My scans have already indicated that I did not remove any, significant, portions of your brain. Perhaps I should look again."

The Goa'uld was gone then. He could finally say all the things he'd been trying to. If only his voice would let him, and if he could stay awake. He could already feel his eyes drooping, "McKay's in danger."

Two alien eyes blinked back at him, "You provided the code to disarm the detonation. Atlantis, and Dr. McKay, are safe."

"No…" Caldwell shook his head and swallowed painfully.

Two alien eyes narrowed sceptically at him, "It is not uncommon for humans to be confused when awakening from an operation."

This was becoming frustrating. Steven took a deep breath and forced himself to speak through the pain. "There's a Goa'uld mother-ship in Pegasus. Destroying the city was a cover. There's more Trust operatives in the city. They're going to take McKay."

The alien eyes widened, "Crap."

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Sheppard looked out over the ocean and tried to clear his head. He'd come out to the balcony to think about what he'd almost had done to Kavanagh. It had been the right decision given the situation, and Kavanagh was a jerk, but still...

'Colonel Sheppard.' Sheppard jumped and a shiver went down his spine when the naked alien Asgard's voice came out of nowhere. Oh… his radio. "Hermiod," Sheppard replied uncomfortably, "How nice, but unusual, to hear from you."

The discomfort in Sheppard's tone seemed lost on the alien. They didn't seem to have many vocal inflections where they came from. 'Colonel Caldwell is awake. I have successfully extracted the Goa'uld'

"That's good to know." Sheppard replied, making an effort to sound polite and not freaked out. If McKay were here he'd probably say that Sheppard even managed to stare through the radio. He'd be right. "Is he up to some questioning? We need to make sure that the Goa'uld didn't leave anymore surprises."

'There are indeed surprises…'

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Rodney was in a pretty good mood as he strolled down the halls of Atlantis.

Not being dead was a great feeling. It sort of made Rodney appreciate the finer things in life, like not being dead. The city was saved. The Goa'uld had been captured. And they could all live happily ever after until next time.

McKay was used to being on guard around people, but having to really suspect anyone on Atlantis of being a Trust agent had been just weird. He'd even considered that Cadman might have been brain-washed into being a Trust agent. Now that it was all over, he had to admit Sheppard was probably right to think that was stupid.

Maybe he should listen to Sheppard more, and Teyla too. Ronon didn't really say very much. But the point was that the people who were on this mission were here because they were trustworthy. The clearance required was massive. So, if he couldn't stop running and hiding now, then when could he?

"Hey, Handyman!" A familiar voice called out for him.

Rodney turned to see his old school friend jogging towards him. "Hey, Bobby."

"Heya!" A big hand clapped down on Rodney's shoulder, jolting him a bit, "As long as we're in port for a bit I thought maybe we could hang out. I've got somethin' I'd like to show ya."

Rodney hesitated a moment before returning Bobby's smile, "Sure. Why not."

As they walked, Bobby talked about all the people who had lived in his old apartment building. He told Rodney who had moved, who had stayed, who in school had gone on to greater things… It was nice. Rodney was so engrossed in the conversation that he didn't even notice when they stopped passing other people.

Once again, Rodney found himself feeling guilty for not staying in touch, and for lying about why. His thoughts drifted back to all the signatures on that card. The only people who'd worried about him deserved to know something. "Uh, Bobby. About that school I told you about."

Freeman sighed and held up a hand to forestall what Rodney's confession, "It's ok Rodney. I know you didn't really change schools."

Rodney's head spun at that, "You do!?"

"Heh!" Freeman snickered, "You're a terrible liar."

Rodney didn't think he was really that readable! Was he really that readable? "I guess I can't argue with that."

"Besides," Bobby shrugged, "I knew about Phoenix."

The none-to-agile physicist stumbled in shock, "W-what?! How?"

Freeman easily caught Rodney by the arm and guided him forward.

"Don't worry about it." Freeman smiled broadly so Rodney would know he wasn't mad. "I gotta admit, it was kinda disappointing when I couldn't get ya to open up about it. Even when it seemed like everyone else you knew in Atlantis was against you. But I know how stubborn you can be."

The normally brilliant man still seemed too numb with shock to consider resisting as Bobby now guided him by the arm. "H-How did you know?"

"Relax, Handyman," Freeman soothed. "It all works out according to Gods will in the end. Today's your lucky day.

"Lucky?" Rodney chose then to realize he was being pulled along. He dug his heels into the floor.

A serene smile was frozen on Bobby's face as he drew his gun and held it against Rodney's side. "That's right. Today I'm going to introduce you to God."

The struggling scientist stilled, "When did this escalate to killing!?"

"I'm not here to kill you!" Bobby laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, "No. You're going to serve Ba'al. He's amazing. You'll see. Oh, and give me your radio."

8888888888888

Elizabeth allowed herself a moment to appreciate the relative post-crisis calm. The mood in the control room was cautiously optimistic.

With the safeties re-enabled and the sabotage program disabled it was now safe to dial earth. It was almost time to let Earth know that Atlantis was still there. She'd given Rodney the rest of the day off, after-all he was supposed to be resting. But it was important that the Military Leader be there, especially since they'd be explaining their decision to torture Kavanagh. It didn't matter that it hadn't gone that far in the end. The decision had been made and, to Elizabeth, that was just as bad.

Elizabeth was waiting on the control level now, at her favourite spot overlooking the gate. She understood that Sheppard needed a few minutes to clear his head. He wouldn't be too long.

In the gate room below, Ronon was leaning casually against a wall, flipping his gun around like a cow-boy from the Wild West. He seemed to be taking it all in stride. Suddenly the casual lean was replaced by a sharp military stride towards the balcony, his gun was still drawn but looked ready to be fired.

Elizabeth took the steps down to the Gate room two at a time and jogged after Ronon, she was vaguely aware of the presence of two military behind her.

"McKay, come in. McKay!" Sheppard's half frantic voice could be heard coming off the balcony, "Turn your damn radio on and answer me now!"

Sheppard took a deep calming breath.

'_Have any of you seen McKay recently?'_ The question blared out of the command channel on Elizabeth and Lorne's radio when they were just feet from the balcony.

"We're here, John, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked more calmly than she felt. There was clearly about to be another crisis. Hadn't they been through enough today?

Sheppard spun to face them and repeated his question, "Where's McKay right now? Does anyone know? When did anyone last see him?"

"I saw him about twenty minutes ago, sir," Cadman reported calmly, "He was going somewhere with Sergeant Freeman."

"Crap!" Sheppard's hand clenched around his side arm, "Freeman is working for the Trust, where did they go, Cadman?"

"I don't know!" Cadman searched her memory for any detail she could remember, "Freeman told him he wanted to show him something. They headed towards C-block last I saw, but…"

That was all Elizabeth needed to know. She darted back into the gate room and yelled up to the command level. "Bring up internal sensors. Focus on C-block. We're looking for two life signs that are alone."

"Yes Ma-am," the technician had it up on the main screen by the time Elizabeth was back up the stairs. Two life solitary life signs blinked, they were dangerously far from the rest of the population.

Sheppard was two steps behind her, "Lorne, gather a team quickly and quietly and meet us there. Maintain radio silence. We don't want to spook Freeman into doing whatever he's doing faster. Cadman, Ronon, you're with me."

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The speed at which Rodney talked often tended to match his heart-rate. So right now, both were pretty fast. He was now painfully aware of how far from the main city he'd allowed himself to be guided. "Listen, Bobby, I know you're thinking is making a lot of sense to you right now but you've been brainwashed. This is not you. You have to fight it."

"You won't say that once you meet him." Freeman answered calmly, with a casual shrug that reminded Rodney of Sheppard, "He'll show you The Way. He's gonna end world hunger, bring world peace, make everything better. You wouldn't believe how humble he is too. He doesn't even think of himself as the God he is.

"Think about it!" Rodney squeaked with desperation, "You're not even religious! Ok fine! You want me to pull rank on you! Put the gun down now, Sergeant! This is not acceptable behaviour!"

Freeman just laughed again, that deep bellied genuine laugh of his.

Reasoning wasn't working, so Rodney wasn't too proud to beg, "Oh please let me go! What would your mother say?"

That wiped the jovial look off of Freeman's face. For a moment, Rodney thought maybe he'd gotten through, but then, "She didn't understand. She called me when I didn't visit. I tried to tell her that I was doing God's will, but she thought I'd joined a cult. She was going to call the military 'bout it. I couldn't let her do that. It would have ruined everything."

The horror on Rodney's face seemed lost on Freeman. "What did you do?"

"Don't worry Rodney." Freeman gripped his shoulder and tried to smile comfortingly, "She's in a better place."

The frantic rambling was replaced by a quiet despondent whisper, "This isn't happening."

They stopped in front of a set of doors, where-ever Freeman was talking him, they'd arrived. McKay desperately wished he'd payed closer attention to where they were going. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.

Amazingly, Freeman put his gun away and pulled out another hand-held device. It was definitely Goa'uld design, some sort of GPS. But more importantly this could be his only opportunity to get away.

"Are we lost?" Rodney quipped sarcastically. That's what Sheppard would do, to distract him.

Rodney prepared himself to kick and run. The doors slid open to an empty room. Rodney kicked at one of the logs that was Freeman's leg and made to dart away. Freeman just chuckled and wrapped a thick arm around Rodney's neck, cutting off his oxygen. "You're such a dork. You can outsmart me any-day, Handy man. But you ain't never gonna beat me in a fight."

Whatever Freeman had been looking for on the GPS, he'd found it in that room, "Settle down now. We're almost there." He dragged Rodney into the room with the unbreakable choke-hold.

Rodney gave up struggling for breath and instead shoved his elbow into Freeman's rock hard side. It was completely ineffectual.

The only reaction Freeman gave was a laboured sigh. "I really didn't want to have to deliver you like this. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to on the trip. But ya aren't leaving me much choice." He pocketed the Goa'uld device and produced an unmarked epi-pen, as an afterthought he let Rodney have a little oxygen.

Terror flooded through Rodney as Freeman pressed the epi to his neck and a sharp prick sent an unknown fluid into his bloodstream. Before he could register what it was doing to him, or take his second gasping breath of blessed oxygen, Freeman had the Goa'uld device back out again.

"Freeze!" Sheppard's voice shouted the command.

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Sheppard aimed a wraith stunner at where Freeman's chest would be if he weren't holding McKay in the way. A quick assessment of the situation told Sheppard that McKay might not be up to a blast from a stunner. His friend was barely holding onto consciousness, and some nasty bruising was forming around his neck. He'd shoot if he had to though. Carson was close by. "Stand down, Freeman. It's over."

A creepily friendly smile spread across Freeman's face, "And risk hitting Rodney? And you call yourself his friend. Now me, I'm trying to look out for his best interests here." Rodney sagged further, and took in a ragged breath.

"Right…" Sheppard smiled back, this guy was nuts. "Of course you are. We're obviously all on the same side here so why don't you just put Rodney down and we can discuss what's best for him."

Lorne's team chose then to sneak through a back door. They had a clear shot at Freeman if he tried anything.

"Right," Freeman drawled. "Sure we are. So listen, I'm gonna do him another favour and tell you I just shot him full of some stuff. I'm not that sure of how it'll mix with a stun bolt so…" He shoved Rodney violently to the ground as he pressed a button on the Goa'uld device.

A ring dropped from the ceiling and surrounded both Freeman and McKay. Freeman's eyes widened as Sheppard and Lorne both fired. He fell forward onto the rings, and was pinned by the third as it dropped.

It all happened so fast. By the time Sheppard reached the falling rings a beam of light had snatched Rodney away, and left the top half of Freeman behind. The rings lifted, dropping Freeman's torso.

Sheppard switched his radio back on and barked into it, "There's a ship in orbit, find it and track it now!"

Carson had told him to keep and eye on McKay today. It was a stupid thing to think just then, as Freeman blinked up at him. He was alive?!

"Don't worry Colonel," Freeman rasped. "God will fix him up like new. He's going to a better place."

"Get Beckett in here," Sheppard ordered as he knelt down. "Where? I want to go to the better place too, so how about telling me where I can find this god?"

But Freeman was already dead.

"What happened here?!" Carson stared in horror at the gory site. "There's nothing I can do for him. Where's Rodney?"

But Sheppard was too busy giving out orders to respond, "Hermiod, Novak. I need you to get the Daedalus back in the air and beam us aboard now!"

'That will be quite impossible at this time.' An alien voice answered far too calmly. 'One of your scientists has quite effectively disabled our engines, a Dr. Sally Parker.'

'Colonel Sheppard, report. What is our situation?' Elizabeth's voice commanded with a calm that Sheppard was quickly losing.

"I was too late. They took McKay." Sheppard managed to answer with a level tone. "But we're getting him back"


	26. Twisted Justice

Sitting in the quarters of a beautiful woman, completely at her mercy, Radek wasn't entirely sure whether to be completely furious with Rodney or just a little bit grateful. Recalling the snickers and outright laughter in the halls, Radek decided on furious.

Whatever the children of M7G-677 had put on his face had been impossible to wash off. It seemed that Teyla had expected he'd have difficulty when she'd heard of his predicament. So this blessed angel had come to him and offered to help him clean it off.

Of course, she too had taken a minute to laugh first. But she seemed to need it, so he did not mind as much.

At least the mirror once again showed his own face, and not something a proud mother would stick to a fridge. Teyla was now working on the colourful decorations and straw woven into his hair.

"Tsst," Radek hissed and involuntarily pulled back from a sharp tug.

"I am sorry," Teyla quickly apologized and tugged at the straw more gently. "You are fortunate that the face dye's they used are so similar to the ones the children in my village sometimes play with. But, I am afraid the straw is proving to be more difficult to un-weave."

Radek tried to turn his head to look at her. Another tug reminded him that he was supposed to sit still, "You have no need for apology. I am exceedingly grateful for your help. Rodney, however! All I do is ask him why he does not like children! And what do I get? He sends me to hell planet populated only by children for object lesson! I never should have agreed to be on Sheppard's 'special ops' team."

Teyla drew a single strand of straw from Radek's hair with a look of triumph. One gone, about thirty to go…"I thought he assigned you the task because you were the most qualified to assist, on the planet I mean."

"Pfft!" Radek exclaimed, "Yes I was qualified. But others could have done it. He sends me because he is bitter, mean-spirited, little man. Next time Colonel Sheppard wants to pry he can do so himself. Rodney cannot be forced to talk to anyone and he will not be coerced by me. From now on I stick to safe subject, like city weapons, and power distribution."

"It is good that you try." Teyla tried to encourage.

"I am sorry. But how is it good when it is completely useless?" Radek threw up his hands in a gesture of frustration, "He does not want to talk to me."

Teyla sighed sympathetically, "He is improving, although he is still overly cautious."

Whatever else Teyla was going to say was interrupted by a city-wide announcement. 'This is Dr. Weir. We have had a serious security breach. For your own safety all non-essential personnel are to go to their quarters and remain there until further notice. Shortly, some of you will be escorted to the infirmary for examination. The situation will be explained to you as soon as possible. Thank you for your co-operation.'

Teyla looked at Radek with confusion and concern.

He began searching his pockets for his ear-piece. He had taken it out when he started getting trivial requests to go to the lab, no doubt because they wished to see his face and hair. Rodney McKay would pay for this humiliation. "Perhaps they are concerned that there may be more Goa'uld?"

"No." Teyla answered thoughtfully, as she turned and searched for her radio. "It sounded as though something else has happened."

They found and turned on their radios almost simultaneously, and were greeted by pandemonium. Orders were being shouted on all channels, and several separate conversations seemed to be happening on each of them.

_Lorne, report…Dr. Parker has been tracked to power station three…How long before the Daedalus is in the air?…I'm still not picking up anything on sensor's or sensor logs sir…Where the hell is Zelenka? … I want all personnel accounted for…Repairs to the Daedalus will take at least thirty hours…too slow…We have Dr. Parker in custody… _

There was no pause in the deluge to ask what was going. There was a tight edge of urgency to Dr. Weir's voice, and Colonel Sheppard sounded near frantic.

It was then that the doors of Teyla's quarters swished open to admit Ronon. Zelenka felt his heart skip a beat and his jaw drop at the sight of the imposing man glowering in the doorway.

Ronon looked ready to rip an army apart with his bare hands… and possibly his teeth. "McKay's gone. The Goa'uld took him."

Zelenka swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise into his mouth. How long had they been trying to reach him? How long should he have already been helping to track down the ship, or to stop the rings from even entering Atlantis? And Radek had stupidly turned off his radio! McKay was paying alright. His friend's worst fears were being realized. The coloured straw still hanging from his hair was the last thing on Radek's mind as he ran down the halls towards the command centre.

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Cheyenne Mountain - Earth

Woolsey jogged down the halls of the SGC, towards Sam's office. He'd just arrived on base and had been told he could find her there. Clutched in his hand was a disk of very sensitive information, too sensitive to e-mail or give over the phone.

The long trip home on the Daedalus, and hiding from the odd behaviour of Lt. Freeman and that Atlantis scientist, had given Richard plenty of time to reflect. That reflection had led him to decide that ridding the NID of the corrupt influence of the Trust needed to be his top priority.

General O'Neill had graciously welcomed him on board. Though he still worked for the Civilian Oversight committee, he now also functioned as something of a double agent. He was a primary advisor for understanding the corrupted NID would move and communicate. It was rather exciting.

Naturally, he realized that even if these criminals believed their communications to be secure they would never communicate openly. They would use codes that would make it seem as though they were talking about one thing, when they were actually discussing something else entirely. That had to be why the program Col. Carter had discovered was still uncovering so little communication. It had, for example, found nothing of the bomb in Atlantis. That had been uncovered in careless phone conversations, almost as if the Trust had wanted the SGC to know that Atlantis was in danger and focus all their efforts on that.

The information he now held, he had personally extracted from the ex-CIA man responsible for fingering McKay as the ideal candidate for those experiments. He had a new list of key words. He had the codes they communicated with. He had names so that the search could be focussed on communications to and from specific people. Getting the information from him had been extremely satisfying. Woolsey almost didn't mind that he was probably going to get fired…. Almost.

Once he'd learned of Colonel Carter's suspicions, that the Trust knew precisely where Dr. McKay was and was had a plan to take him, he'd realized that conventional methods of interrogation would be too slow.

"Colonel Carter!" Woolsey panted when he finally reached her office.

She lifted her head from her work and looked at the man panting in her doorway. "Mr. Woolsey?"

"I have information that could help you find out more about the bomb in Atlantis if we act fast." He spoke quickly as he placed the treasured disk on her desk.She didn't look as interested as he'd expected. "It's too late. The Daedalus has moved out of range. Even the twilight bark won't reach them now."

"Twilight Bark?" Woolsey repeated stupidly, "As in 'A Hundred and One Dalmations'?"

Sam smirked at him, "You didn't hear about that?"

"I just arrived on base," Woolsey frowned. "But that doesn't matter. In my experience, it's never too late for more information to be of use, even as hindsight. You never know, we might find something that can help."

Sam's expression changed as she scrolled through the information, "How did you get this?"

"Our ex-CIA friend told me everything." Woolsey answered honestly if not completely.

Sam turned and regarded the straight-laced man. "I thought he stopped talking as soon as he was cured of the Goa'uld brain-washing."

He sighed and snapped, "Does it help, or not?"

"Not. The Trust will probably stop communicating and change all their codes as soon as they realize that we've got one of their people in holding, if they haven't already." She frowned at the non-answer and turned back to the screen.

"Well…" Woolsey searched for another solution, unwilling to give up when they were so close, "Can't you scan communications they've already had?"

Sam looked at him in surprise, "Yes! McKay's program is set up to quietly watch communications as they happen and only activate the moment the keywords set it up. But if I can modify it and send it into the back-up data storage servers…."

Woolsey leaned over her shoulder and watched her work, his expression intense, "If you can prove the involvement of rogue Goa'uld using stolen Asgard Technology…"

"They just might help out." Sam finished the line of thought without missing a key-stroke, "Their ships are faster and they might even have one or two passing near Pegasus or in another neighbouring galaxy."

"How long?" O'Neill's quiet entrance caught Woolsey by surprise. How long had he been listening?

Sam seemed unsurprised, "Everything I need is right here, keywords, names… I just need to get into the backup servers and…" Her voice trailed off as she became completely absorbed in the information scrolling down her screen.

O'Neill cleared his throat and summoned Woolsey over with twitch of his head.

Here it came, the consequences. Woolsey took a brief moment to school his emotions before strolling over to the imposing general.

"Richard," O'Neill began coolly, quietly addressing the normally straight-laced man.

"General," Woolsey acknowledged.

O'Neill clucked his tongue and narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, "Would you be able to explain to me why our ex-CIA prisoner suddenly thinks that you're god?"

"Well, uh…" Woolsey swallowed, "We needed more information quickly for it to make a difference to Atlantis."

"Ah." O'Neill nodded, as though that explained it all. "So, just so we're clear, you took a sample of the Goa'uld brain-washing drug and fed it to the prisoner so that he would talk?"

"Yes."

"You…" O'Neill raised his eyebrows disbelievingly at the man that was usually straight-laced to the point of obnoxious.

"Me." Woolsey confessed again.

The General gave an approving nod, "This is the part where I'm 'supposed' to tell you not to do it again."

"It is," Woolsey agreed cautiously. Was he really getting away with this, career intact?

General O'Neill shrugged casually, "Alright then, hold up your hand face down."

Richard's brows furrowed in confusion, but as the delay seemed to annoy the General he complied. The General proceeded to slap him on the wrist.

"Take note, you have been slapped upon the wrist," the General pronounced.

"Noted, but um…" Woolsey was speechless for a moment… "I don't think that's supposed to be literal."

General O'Neill raised his eyebrows, "You wanted more?"

"No, no, that's fine!" Woolsey quickly back-pedalled.

A jubilant shout came from Sam's desk, "I've got it! The cloning tech is definitely Asgard. Communications can be traced to Ba'al's organization. And there's a Goa'uld Mother-ship in Pegasus."

"Great!" O'Neill congratulated, "Let's go tell the Asgard."

"There's more," Sam grew more serious, "I think Colonel Caldwell has been compromised."

"Talk as we walk," O'Neill motioned to the door.

88888888888

Atlantis –

Everyone was too busy to pay much notice when Kavanagh wandered into the City Command Centre. If anyone did notice his ghostly pale face and slack expression, they must have attributed it to his recent near-torture experience. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching the technicians, soldiers, and scientists bustle around frantically. He couldn't believe this was happening. He didn't want to acknowledge that his professional jealousy had caused this.

But here it was. And here he stood, trying to work up the courage to admit what he had done. Maybe if he watched long enough he could see a way to help and lessen the reprisal he'd face.

Harried scientists and technicians manned every available sensor station, futilely searching the skies for any sign of the long-departed craft. Medical staff hovered around the room in teams, taking blood samples and checking them for any sign of the Goa'uld mind-control drug or the traces of Naquada left by a Goa'uld infestation. More medical teams were visiting the living areas and labs that had been locked down, to carry out the same tests. Zelenka had been asked to personally make certain it was safe to dial earth with the Stargate.

By now, everyone knew that McKay had been snatched by the Goa'uld and that there had been inside help. Efforts were torn between finding a way to mountain a rescue, which was increasingly unlikely, and securing the base. Which should be the priority continued to be a strong point of contention between Dr Weir and Col. Sheppard.

Dr. Weir faced Colonel Sheppard, her stance one of comforting controlled assurance for all to see, "Our priority right now has got to be securing this base. There's nothing we can do for Rodney right now."

In contrast, everything Col. Sheppard's stance sent shivers up Kavanagh's spine and alarm bells off in his head. His expression, too, was one of tight control. But it was military control. He was a weapon needing only a direction. It was a glimpse of what Kolya's men must have faced when they tried to take Atlantis. The two Pegasus-born team members flanking either side of him looked ready for a fight as well. "We need all of our people finding a way to get the Daedalus in the air and get McKay back!"

Sheppard was disputing the way the majority of military resources was now being used to isolate people who hadn't been tested yet, and so many scientists hadn't yet been approved to return to duty.

Weir raised both her hands in a gesture meant to calm the coldly furious Colonel. "I understand how you feel, John, believe me. But we've had three people compromised and we can't afford anymore surprises. The Daedalus isn't going anywhere anytime soon and even if that weren't the case we have no idea where to go. Dr. Parker doesn't have the necessary access or knowledge to have done this alone, and Sergeant Freeman certainly didn't. I'm sorry, my decision stands until we know more."

"Forget the Daedalus! I can take a jumper," The Colonel reasserted.

"Take a jumper where? We don't know where they've taken him." Dr. Weir rebutted sympathetically.

"The jumpers aren't fast enough." Kavanagh reported numbly. He too was trying to consider the options, but all he could see were obstacles.

The Colonel snarled with frustration, "Why is he here?!"

Kavanagh hadn't really expected his input to be welcomed. People here rarely seemed to see the value in eliminating non-viable options.

"He's right." Weir took back control of the conversation, "We'll find a way to get Rodney back but first we need to make sure Atlantis is safe and update earth. I'll get Zelenka to help with the Daedalus repairs once he's confirmed it's safe to dial earth. In the mean-time we have to find out who else was working with Caldwell."

"It was me." Kavanagh barely had a moment to realize he'd spoken out loud before Sheppard was in his face.

"What was you?" The calm in the military man's tone held more threat than anything Sheppard could have yelled.

Kavanagh flinched and took a guilt-ridden breath before continuing, "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know that Colonel Caldwell was a Goa'uld. I was acting under his orders."

"What did you do?" The simple four-word question was filled with accusation and threat.

Kavanagh swallowed fearfully and tried desperately to explain his actions, "Colonel Caldwell told me that he was looking for evidence of misappropriated resources and unauthorized research. That's all. I helped Parker get the access she needed to hack into Dr. Beckett's files."

"Lorne!" Sheppard barked, "Get Kavanagh into the brig before I do something I won't regret. Beckett!"

The leader of the medical team had been overseeing some blood tests nearby when Kavanagh had made his confession. At some point during the confession he'd snatched a laptop from one of his nurses.

"I heard." The physician moaned as he stared at the screen. "I should have bloody checked sooner but I didn't think there was a need! Rodney set up this program to log every access and attempt at access to my more sensitive research. I was supposed to check it every day but with everything that's happened…." He shook his head and closed the lap-top, "She got away with everything on the ATA therapy, the Wraith retro-virus, and Rodney."

Why would the Goa'uld be so interested in McKay's medical files? Better yet, why would they be classified on the same level as the ATA therapy and the Retro-virus? It was a pointless thing for Kavanagh to wonder, as he was being roughly guided away by Major Lorne. Pointless because he had about as much chance of finding out about those files, as they all had of rescuing McKay. Kavanagh hated wasting his mind on problems that had no viable solutions.

Insanely, even as he was being dragged away his mind kept drifting to the advice McKay had given him against single mindedness. If McKay were here he'd probably say something obnoxious about focussing on what can be done rather than what can't be done. What good is what can be done when as soon as it's done the larger obstacles remain in place? All you have then is wasted time. Case in point, there is no way to follow that cloaked ship even if it could be tracked. Which it can be tracked…wait that's it. It's not much, but it's something!

"Wait. Wait!" Kavanagh blurted. "Wait, I can help. Let me help. I have an idea!"

With a quick motion, probably some military code, Sheppard commanded Lorne to wait.

"Talk fast," Ronon advised when Sheppard just glowered darkly with his hand flexing dangerously close to his side-arm.

Kavanagh gulped and talked fast, "I can configure the sensors to pick up a trail that the Goa'uld scout-ships leave behind. But I have to do it quickly before it has a chance to fade. Sam Carter, of SG1, figured out how when…"

He cut off in his explanation when Sheppard took hold of him and dragged him over to a command console, "Just do it!"

Kavanagh worked as quickly as he could, inputting the chemical profile of the ionized fuel the sensors should be looking for. Anything less sensitive than the Atlantean sensors would have no hope of picking it up… but just maybe… "I've got it. There."

He was acutely aware of Colonel Sheppard hovering behind him as he brought the map up on the main screen. It showed a relatively short line. "The range isn't much but it at least gives a general direction. But there's know way of knowing if the ship changed direction after that."

"McKay increased the sensor range," Sheppard countered.

"Yes," Kavanagh rolled his eyes, "He increased the range for detecting Wraith Hive ships and Stars. This ion trail is a little smaller than that!"

"Then find a way," Teyla commanded coldly. It was the first thing she'd said in a while.

Kavanagh was beginning to see why McKay complained so often about the expectations his team placed on him. "Oh sure! I'll just wave my magic pixie wand and…" The death glare he received shut him up. Apparently their willingness to place McKay-like expectations on him didn't extend to a willingness to accept McKay-like sarcasm from him. Solutions. Focus on solutions as well as problems. "A jumper can be taken up to follow the trail farther but, but the Jumper doesn't have the necessary range or speed. He took another look at the trail and extended its predicted path. Based on it's current path I can project this much."

Sheppard leaned closer to the monitor, again making Kavanagh feel smothered, and muttered 'What would McKay do? …c'mon Sheppard think. What would McKay do?' He either didn't realize, or didn't care, that Kavanagh could hear.

Finally he stood up and asked out-loud, "Get me a list of Star-gates that the scout-ship is most likely to pass."

Kavanagh's eyes widened as he realized what Colonel Sheppard was thinking, "You can't seriously be considering following with a jumper."

"Just do it." Sheppard commanded.

Kavanagh obeyed without further protest. He realized the irony that arguing against this suicide mission now would probably be a suicide mission in itself. "I think these are the most likely planets, thus far. You'll need to recalculate once you pick up the trail again. I've preset the navigation protocols in the jumper to do that for you, but it's still a long shot."

"I'll take it." Sheppard looked surprisingly mollified. He wasted no time in heading for the jumper bay. "Can you reconfigure the Jumper sensors to see the trail?"

"I've already uploaded the data to the jumpers, they're ready." Kavanagh reported.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Dr. Weir commanded Sheppard's attention.

He was already half out the door when he turned, "We have a way to follow now, Elizabeth!"

She seemed to war with herself, "There's no easy way to say this. One jumper is no match for a Goa'uld Mothership! Even all the jumpers and all the fighters on the Daedalus are no match! I can't authorize a suicide mission."

"Try and stop me," Sheppard countered coldly. "Let me explain something. We don't leave a man behind. We don't leave a man in the hands of the enemy. And we sure as hell don't let the enemy get away from snatching a man out from under our noses."

Anyone who knew the two men were silently substituting 'a man' with 'best friend', though the two would never admit it out-loud.

Dr. Weir gave a resigned nod. "Don't attack the Mother-ship Colonel. You won't be able to help Rodney if you're dead. Just try to keep track of it while we work on getting the Daedalus in the air. Report back after you arrive at each destination to tell us where you are heading next."

Sheppard nodded but made no promises about not attacking the ship as he jogged towards the Jumper bay, with Ronon close behind. The truth that hung unspoken in the air was that it was virtually impossible the Daedalus would be in the air in time to go after the Mothership. In all likely-hood, the Mothership would leave the Galaxy first.

Teyla turned to follow but Dr. Weir lay a hand on her shoulder.

Kavanagh realized, with mixed pride and humiliation, that he'd hit and passed one of the learning curbs that Dr. McKay had tried to explain to him. And as he looked at the expressions of distrust and anger in his former colleagues he knew that it was too little, too late.

"Teyla," Weir silently communicated her request with a nod.

And Teyla acknowledged with a tight smile, "I will see that no risk is taken that cannot directly result in Rodney's safe return."

Teyla turned to hurry after her team mates. As an afterthought she threw an accusing glare at Kavanagh, "I told Rodney that he was foolish not to trust his own people. I said you would never intend harm upon him."

With those parting words, she ran to catch up with her team. Leaving Kavanagh to think again on how thoroughly he'd screwed up, and what his jealousy might cost. He honestly wouldn't wish even his worst enemy or most hated rival into the hands of the Goa'uld. As for his career, he'd be amazed if he was ever trusted enough to be part of a top-secret program again. He would be forever barred from such cutting edge research. He couldn't see how this could get much worse.

Then Zelenka came jogging up from the gate level, "Dr. Weir. I can guarantee that there has been no further tampering with the gate. It is safe to dial earth." He paused as he reached the top of the stairs and noted the way the majority of staff were glaring accusingly in Kavanagh's direction. "What has Kavanagh done now?"

Kavanagh quickly ducked behind Major Lorne, "I've done all I can here. Maybe you should take me to that cell."

88888888888

Star Gate Command -

Landry sat in his office, regarding General O'Neill, Richard Woolsey, and the entire of SG-1. They just didn't seem to grasp the concept of a spacious meeting room. "While I'm impressed that you managed to convince the Asgard to relay messages to Atlantis for us, and ingratiated that you only now decided to let me know that this was your intention, I am curious about how you suddenly received this very convincing intelligence. That's a lot of old communications you've mysteriously intercepted. General O'Neill, do I need to remind you that SG-1 works within Star Gate Command, which incidentally is now my command. And Mr. Woolsey, I've decided that I don't even 'want' to know why you're here."

"I didn't encourage them sir," O'Neill defended. "You know how gun-ho these crazy kids than get." O'Neill ruffled Daniel's hair to punctuate the point.

Daniel just raised his eye-brows and regarded Jack with mild annoyance.

"General Landry!" Dr Lee called out moments before he landed panting in General Landry's office. "Atlantis just called in! Dr. Weir is asking to speak with you."

"Thank-you." Landry stood and swiftly and followed after Lee, with a quick glance to the others in the room to let them know this wasn't over. He decided that later would be a better time to remind the good Doctor of the utility of his radio.

When Landry reached the Gate-room he was aware he'd towed with him the assembly from his office. They all seemed to have invested a great deal of interest in seeing this through, so he pointedly didn't protest.

'Dr. Weir,' he looked towards the gate and spoke towards the microphones hanging nearby, "It's good to hear you alive and well."

'We're alive.' Dr. Weir acknowledged, "But we're not well."

"Are all present and accounted for?" Landry veiled the most pertinent question. If the Goa'uld hadn't succeeded then the rest should be conveyed on a secure channel to Dr. Weir's office.

'No.' Dr. Weir hesitated, choosing her words carefully, 'I'm afraid Dr. McKay was last seen being taken up in some Goa'uld rings. The Daedalus has been disabled, by way of sabotage. Colonel Sheppard is attempting to follow in a cloaked jumper through the Stargate's closest to the Scout-ships projected path. But we have no viable means of engagement should Colonel Sheppard make it as far as the Mothership.'

Landry nodded out of habit, "Colonel Carter was concerned of as much, so when we lost contact with you SG1, with the help of Colonel O'Neill, arranged a little extra help from the Asgard. They were on their way to warn you."

There was an audible sigh of relief, 'Oh thank god. How soon will they arrive? How fast are their ships?'

"As I was saying," Landry cut into the barrage of questions, "They were coming to warn you. I don't know how far they will be willing to go help. Only one research vessel was within range to reach you. They should arrive in Pegasus within the next two hours. It will probably go a long way to convince them to assist you further if Colonel Sheppard already knows where the Mother-ship is."

'I'll let him know as soon as he checks in. There's more. Colonel Caldwell was a Goa'uld host. Hermiod has removed the Goa'uld and Colonel Caldwell is recovering. Sergeant Freeman was brainwashed using some sort of drug, as was Dr. Sally Parker. Sergeant Freeman is deceased. He was killed in the act of abducting Dr. McKay. Dr. Parker is in custody.' Dr. Weir took a deep breath before continuing, with a cooler edge to her voice, 'Dr. Kavanagh was also assisting to Goa'uld, believing him-self to be acting under orders from Colonel Caldwell. He is also in custody. Further more, The Goa'uld have acquired all of Dr. Beckett's research regarding the ATA therapy, the Wraith Retro-virus, and Dr. McKay. I've sent a full report, including a copy of all the information the Goa'uld have.'

Sam stepped forward, looking to General Landry for permission to speak. He nodded his assent, "Dr. Weir. The chemical the Goa'uld use is a biological compound. It's called Nish'ta. More importantly it can be isolated and eliminated by a single blast from a Zat gun. A wraith stunner might have the same effect."

'Thank you, Dr. Carter. Unfortunately we've already tried that. The wraith stunners appear to be sufficiently different that it doesn't affect the compound. In fact, the compound seems to grant the infected with a minor immunity to the stunner. Dr. Parker was shot twice before she was unable to move her body, and even then she was still able to speak.'

Sam thought on that a moment, "I'm sending you everything we have on the energy blasts emitted by a Zat gun, and mechanical diagrams. One of your engineers might be able to modify a stunner. I'm also sending our schematics of known Goa'uld Motherships. "

'Thank-you.' There was another pause, 'We confirm receipt of both your files on the Zat gun, and the mother-ship. Is there anything else I should know?'

"Not at this time." General Landry confirmed. "Call us when you know more."

'You can count on it.'

The room fell into silence as the transmission was cut off, and the gate evaporated. An entire galaxy away, their people were in trouble, and once again beyond Earth's help. It was an uncomfortably helpless feeling.

"So…" Colonel Mitchell broke the silence, "It seems that the Trust was McKay's concern after-all. Even though, he's all the way in Pegasus. Even though, he's Canadian…."

"Cam!" Sam exclaimed in shock and slapped his arm.

"What?!" Mitchell stepped out of reach, "I'm just saying he should have been helping us from the beginning. If he had, this probably wouldn't have happened."

"Are you trying to say he had it coming?" Daniel didn't like McKay anymore than the rest of the team but his shocked expression said he thought that was still harsh.

"No!" Mitchell rubbed his arm and pouted at his team, "Geez. What do you think I am? I'm just saying that once we get him back he needs to be a team player."

"I believe," Teal'c stepped in as Sam looked like she was going to say something scathing, "Colonel Mitchell is only saying that the situation was avoidable."

"Exactly," Mitchell pointed at Teal'c. "He's got it right there."

Sam pressed her lips together and marched out of the room and into the neighbouring briefing room. Mitchell and the others followed close behind and closed the door on the Lee and the other scientists. "Ok. Cam. I'm sorry I punched you. It's just… I think the situation is more complicated than that and you're being a little unfair to McKay. So what else is bothering you?"

Mitchell took a deep breath and let it blow, "What ticks me off about McKay is that as long as he doesn't trust his own people with dangerous secrets his secrets are dangerous to us. If he's so smart he's gotta realize that. We gotta know who we're dealing with. And he has to figure out whose side he's on, his own or earth's. You know I'm right. We've been here trying to help him while playing catch-up with the Trust all because he refused to co-operate. He might have had his reasons for being afraid up until now but endangering everyone else in the name of his fears is just, well…I'm sorry but it's selfish and it's cowardly."

"I'm sure he didn't want to put anyone else in danger. It probably never occurred to him." Sam countered calmly. Compassion was a strong trait that she and Daniel had always shared.

"But you admit that it did potentially put others in danger. The fact it never occurred to him reinforces my point that he was only considering himself." Mitchell countered back.

Landry interrupted the scuff just as Sam looked like she would protest again, "I will need to consult with the Secretary of Defence, but it's possible that Dr. McKay no longer has the luxury of complete privacy in this matter. As long as the Goa'uld or the Trust or whatever have him we have to assume that Phoenix is viable and they have acquired the proto-type of a powerful weapon, and very likely the ability to make more. The longer they have him, the more people will need to know the threat we're dealing with; beginning with our medical staff going over Dr. Beckett's research with a fine tooth comb. Everyone on those people know about the Goa'uld and about the Ori, I think they can handle knowing about Dr. Rodney McKay. Keeping absolute secrecy about whatever they did to him and might now be doing to him will not serve to protect him now."

Sam quieted reluctantly. As much as she hated to admit it, Mitchell was right. If McKay had cooperated from the beginning, this might have been avoided. His unwillingness to trust anyone might have brought about the very thing he'd been trying to hide from, and endangered Earth in the process.


	27. Full Circle

-Somewhere in Pegasus-

Disgust, annoyance, exasperation, a myriad of emotions passed through all three Ba'al's faces as their eyes fell on the contents of the scout ship. It had been a bit disconcerting when the prototype scout ship had returned to the mother-ship on auto-pilot. It was the only scout ship equipped with the new long range beaming technology. The sensors showed one life sign on board, and that life sign was registering as unconscious. Ba'al, he, and himself decided to meet the ship personally when it docked. He'd have carried out the entire plan on his own were it not for the fact that he'd be recognized. He'd been shown time and time again that he was the only one he could trust to get a job done right. This would be added to that list of times.

Blood had spread thickly across the floor of the ship. His valuable merchandise lay unconscious in said puddle of blood. The steady rise and fall of Dr. McKay's chest suggested that the blood was not his, but there was heavy bruising around his neck and an odd angle to his left leg. Under normal circumstances he would seriously berate the individual responsible for delivering such important goods damaged. But only half of the employee in question had returned, and it wasn't a half Ba'al cared to attempt speaking to.

Was it really so complicated to beam a man into an orbiting ship and render him unconscious without nearly killing him in the process? This was just sloppy, incompetent, and negligent! Long range sensors had already shown that Atlantis' planet was still intact. He could only assume that the city itself had also survived. No doubt the humans of Earth and Atlantis would spare nothing in attempting to track down their little lost scientist. They had this annoyingly persistent tendency to be heroic that way; 'Never leave a man behind', and all that. How tiresome.

This was precisely the situation Ba'al had planned so carefully to avoid. He couldn't afford attention to be drawn to his other acquisitions and projects on Earth. Not yet. And a full fledged search for McKay would produce just that. Pity. Dead or alive, this Dr. McKay would eventually have to be returned.

Ba'al glanced over at himself and called for two more of him to assist. Cloning technology was just one of the many benefits he'd managed to accrue from his time with Anubis. Anubis had been the most corrupt and insane Goa'uld he'd ever had the fortune of exploiting. But Anubis had also been a visionary! No other of their kind had ever reached as far as he had in their quest for immortality. Unfortunately, he had been a selfish visionary. It was Ba'al's intention, not only to restore his race to their former glory but, to usher all who would follow him into the next level of existence. They would truly be gods.

It was the natural course of evolution, for all higher races to reach a point where they would seek immortality. The Ancients had sought ascension. The Nox had become forever young. The Asgard transferred they consciousness into cloned bodies. Their moral superiority was nothing more than hypocrisy. They each fought to live at all costs, just like every other life form. The Wraith were the purest example of this evolution to immortality. Survival was the only goal that counted for any form of life.

The Goa'uld were not yet one of the immortal races. Their lives could be extended remarkably by transferring themselves from host to host. The lives of both the host and the Goa'uld within could be further extended with dependence on the sarcophagus. But no Goa'uld but Anubis had yet reached true immortality. Anubis had shown Ba'al that it could be done. Ba'al was certain that the first step in following Anubis' footsteps would be understanding how the Ori and the Ancients had evolved themselves.

He'd been elated to learn that the humans, as primitive as they seemed in comparison to the technological advancements he was used to seeing, had actually unknowingly begun this research in a project they'd called Phoenix. The potential benefits were worth the risks involved in abducting Dr. McKay. Even a day of examining the human with the Asgard technology he'd acquired would make it worth it. He would have needed longer, but the information already transferred to him from Dr. Beckett's research had helped a great deal. At least those incompetents had managed to do something right.

He stepped into the shuttle, grimacing at the sticky mess as his shoe squished in the partially dried blood. The two Ba'al's he'd called arrived with a stretcher, and mirrored Ba'al's earlier look of disgust, annoyance, and exasperation.

8888888888888

Sheppard let out loud a long string of curses as he spun the cloaked jumper away from its collision course with the now closed doors of the Mother ship's docking bay. So close! They had followed the Scout-ship's course, managing to stay ahead of it, by leapfrogging through eight star-gates. After the seventh gate the predicted course took the scout-ship over an hour of the way of the nearest gated planet. Sheppard had pushed every inch of speed out of the jumper, only to watch the mother ship open its doors and swallow the trail they'd been following just as they arrived.

He was seconds too late to follow the scout ship in. What he would have done once inside, he had no idea. But he had to try. Ronon sounded about as frustrated as Sheppard felt as he punched his own leg and growled something unintelligible.

Teyla calmly regarded the two men, "That was foolish. We cannot help Rodney if we are captured ourselves. We must stay hidden and direct the Asgard ship when it arrives. If we are to strike, we must wait until we have a chance of success."

Sheppard forced himself to take a calming breath. He knew Teyla was right. "I know." It just sucked. Those Goa'uld could be doing anything to Rodney while they were just sitting out there, letting it happen. John never would have thought before this that just doing nothing could take so much effort.

He commanded the jumper to land on the hull of the mother ship, remaining cloaked, and settled in to wait as long as it took. The jumper sensors picked up a shield surrounding the Mother ship, and the jumper with it. "We're here Rodney," he whispered out loud.

88888888888888

Terror held Rodney's eyes closed while his heart beat loudly in his ears. He didn't want to be awake. He didn't want it to be real.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening…_

Even with his eyes tightly closed he could tell he was in a box, a small coffin like box. He could feel the closeness of the walls surrounding him, and his breath became short and fast.

_Oh god! Wide open spaces. Wide open spaces. Wide open spaces._

He swallowed the moisture that fear brought to his mouth… and it didn't hurt? Why didn't it hurt? His throat had practically been crushed when he'd tried to get away from Bobby. Maybe it was all a bad dream? He'd had a lot of those lately.

The lid to the box slid open and light spilled in on Rodney. Despite his best judgement, he opened his eyes.

"Ah good. You're awake. Welcome Dr. McKay." A man in an expensive business suit smiled down at him.

"Are you sure it worked? He still doesn't look too good." Rodney turned his head and found an identical man looking at him with mild concern.

"Ah." The first answered as he looked down at the clip-board. "That would be the claustrophobia. Am I right?" He looked at Rodney as though expecting an answer.

Rodney looked down at the box that still enclosed half his body. It was a sarcophagus, as in techno coffin with addictive mind-altering properties. He scrambled out of it and tumbled onto the floor in panic.

"I'm right." The second man stated smugly.

"I so often am." The first man agreed confusingly, and then sighed and tutted, "Now, now, Doctor. If you hurt yourself you'll only have to go back in."

_Ba'al!_ The realization shouted in Rodney's skull. He'd read the SGC reports. Unless there was another power crazy Goa'uld that had cloned himself repeatedly and set himself up as a high-end executive, this was Ba'al. Either way, this was bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Rodney scrambled to his feet and backed into something low, firm, and painful. He turned and saw an ornate table laden with foods native to earth. Fear still pounded in his ears, but he forced himself to take his first real look at his prison cell. He needed to get information if he was going to get himself out of this.

It was an enormous room, elaborately furnished with antique drawer sets, mirrors, and a set of comfortable looking chairs. Silky looking curtains draped down around a four-poster bed. The hum of the ship, and a window overlooking the stars, told him he was still in space.

"I had a little something layed out for you," the first Ba'al, no wait it was the second, said with a charismatic smile. He held his hands open in front of him, in a gesture to indicate he wished no harm, as he inched closer to where McKay had fled.

"We wouldn't want you getting hypoglycaemic. Don't worry. There's no citrus what-so-ever." The other Ba'al, whichever one it was, seemed content to stand back and give McKay his space.

McKay swallowed fearfully and backed around to the other side of the table, so that it was between him and the approaching Ba'al. "That's uh…," he hated how shaky his voice was, "Surprisingly humane."

"That's me!" The Ba'al that had stopped short of the table spread his arms magnanimously, "I don't have anything against humanity, Dr. McKay. You and I both know that the Goa'uld aren't gods, at least not yet. We need humans to survive. And can I just say Earth is a great planet. Did you know that my organization has become one of the biggest givers to your world's charities?" The Goa'uld punched his fist into the air, "We Fight War on Poverty!"

_Think Rodney! What would Sheppard do? Think...Ha… not think, obviously. Act. He'd act…Blow something up, shoot something, knife something… that's it! He'd slip a weapon while the Goa'uld is expounding._

"You want me to believe you're a humanitarian?! You kidnapped me!" McKay slipped on his cloak of arrogance, as best he could while shaking in terror, and complained loudly as he slipped the closest thing to a weapon up his sleeve… the butter knife. The knife slipped neatly up the fitted cuff and rested against the soft fabric. McKay looked down at the shirt in surprise. It was blue, stylish, rather Italian, and he'd never seen it before in his life. It was tucked into equally expensive looking black trousers. "What's this?!"

"Armani," Ba'al explained. Rodney decided he no longer cared which one. "Sadly, the clothing you arrived in was spoiled."

"Spoiled? How? And where's Bobby Freeman? He was with me." McKay rambled off the questions even as the tried to formulate some sort of plan. Maybe if he could get through to Bobby they could escape together.

The Ba'al's exchanged a look before one answered smoothly, "It doesn't really matter. Are you really concerned for him after what he did? After all, you wouldn't be here if it weren't for him."

Rodney scowled at the Ba'al that was talking. Did they think he was that stupid? "I know you used some sort of mind control on him. Nothing he did was his choice."

Ba'al nodded and considered. Dr. McKay clearly had the sort of analytical mind that panicked less with more information. As he needed the man to be conscious for the procedures, he would be easier to handle if he weren't panicking, "Very well. He's dead, Dr. McKay, and not by my hand."

Rodney's felt his mind go numb as stared at the Goa'uld. The Ba'al took the opportunity to step around the table to within arms reach. Rodney didn't duck away, he just couldn't find the will to. He remembered now what Bobby had told him, what had happened to Mrs. Freeman. And now Bobby was dead too. Rodney turned to the Ba'al standing next to him, "How?"

"That's not important. I hardly think the gory details will help your frame of mind. Suffice it to say, he was quite beyond the help of a sarcophagus." Ba'al patted McKay on the shoulder.

Ba'al carefully watched the grief stricken look that appeared on the humans face and passed into acceptance. "The sooner you accept your situation, Dr. McKay, the better it will be for you. You have no allies here. You are my prisoner. But if you co-operate your stay will be made as pleasant and painless as possible."

Rodney noted that 'as pleasant and painless as possible' did not mean 'pleasant and painless'. As possible was a proviso that would allow megalomaniac aliens to do many unpleasant things. "What are you planning to do to me?"

The Ba'al with the clipboard smiled in a doctorly manner that reminded Rodney of Carson. The effect was nauseating, "We're going to begin by running some scans. Then we'll launch into some new treatments we've based on your remarkable Dr. Beckett's research. Under any other circumstances I'm sure you'd be fascinated, Dr. McKay."

"Treatments?" Rodney hated the way his voice cracked, but his quick mind was already imagining far too many unpleasant possibilities. He wondered if Atlantis realized he was missing yet. He wondered how Bobby had died. A knock at the door interrupted his morbid train of thought. And yet another three Ba'al's strolled into the room. This was going to get confusing; except McKay wasn't even trying to keep track anymore, as fear and depression overwhelmed his will.

"Time to go!" one of the new Ba'al's proclaimed cheerfully.

All five Ba'al's soon surrounded McKay. He made no move to run away and didn't struggle as they led him from the room. The effort would be wasted. One human with a Goa'uld could easily overpower ten Rodney McKay's.

He stopped watching where they were taking him and stopped listening to their explanations as he was escorted to various bits of equipment, scanned, poked, and prodded. All the same boring things he'd spent hours having done with Carson in Atlantis, with a few extra bits of alien technology gathering information.

First his principal, then Bobby and his mother had been murdered. He realized now that it was his fault. Why couldn't he have been more like Jeannie? She was brilliant. Possibly more brilliant than Rodney ever would be. But she had chosen to hide it behind moderate grades. She was quiet and well behaved. She did everything right. And everyone had loved her. Rodney desperately wished he could have done that. Sometimes he'd tried. But he just couldn't. He kept taking things apart, trying to understand them, and rebuilding them. He should have tried harder.

He winced as a needle was inserted into his arm, to draw out blood.

All he wanted was some small corner of the universe where he could be himself and learn everything he ever wanted to learn. He'd almost found that in Atlantis. Almost. And he'd nearly gotten it destroyed just by being there.

A Nobel Prize would have been nice too. A small corner of the universe and a Nobel Prize. The Nobel Prize was the symbol of not only humanities acceptance, but appreciation, of a fellow human's brilliance.

And a date with Samantha Carter. A small corner of the universe, a Nobel Prize, and a date with Samantha Carter was all he ever wanted.

Well… maybe not all.

A small part of Rodney wondered if maybe everyone was better off with him locked away as far away as possible. He was so tired of hiding. He was tired of keeping everyone at arms length, even his own sister. After being so careful for so long he was right back where he'd started, with more people dead because of him and in the hands of lunatic's intent on doing horrible things to him, completely alone.

'_Alright! That's enough." _ Rodney thought forcibly at himself. _'You've had your pathetic little mope. Now it's time to get your self out of this, again. You need a plan.'_

Rodney had every intention of escaping as soon as an opportunity presented itself, but he had no idea where he'd go. Returning to Atlantis would only endanger it. On earth, he'd only be running again. He'd always be looking over his shoulder. There were a lot of other planets he could try to hide on. But for how long? It would only be a matter of time before the Genii or some other psycho people figured out who he was and how useful he could be. He was too well known now. He wouldn't fair any better or any longer than he had the last time he'd escaped. Rodney found himself sinking into melancholy again.

"This will hurt a little, just keep still." Ba'al admonished, while two others moved to help hold Rodney in place. The Goa'uld seemed to be enjoying the novelty of playing doctor.

"What?" Rodney blinked up at them, then gasped in pain as a large sharp needle was driven into his hip and slowly began to draw out bone marrow. "Gah! Don't you have any local anaesthetic?!"

"Sadly," The Ba'al actually looked apologetic, "We need your system clear of any drugs for the time being. This should only take ten or fifteen minutes."

Carson would never do this. He missed Carson.

Rodney closed his eyes and recited the periodic table.

"That's right." Not Carson coo'd, "Almost done."

The needle was finally withdrawn. Rodney would have sighed in relief if it weren't for the sudden jolt of pain in the side of his neck. "Gah!"

"There," All three Ba'al's smiled broadly down at him, "The painful part is over for now."

"For now?" Rodney glared. They released him and he lifted a hand to rub his neck. "What was that?"

"At the risk of sounding cliché, Dr. McKay, that was a bomb." Ba'al pulled out a little remote and held it up as he spoke. "More specifically it's about a hundred little nano-bombs. If I don't enter a very precise code into this device once every two hours you will explode. So I wouldn't get any ides about escaping or using whatever powers you might have or obtain to make us let you go and destroy all our research." He wagged a scolding finger at the scientist. "That little trick is not going to work here."

Rodney stared at the Goa'uld in disbelief, "You're right. That really is cliché." And he was now officially doomed.

The two Ba'al's that had held him pulled him effortlessly out of the chair and led him into a room with a cloning chamber.

"You're cloning me?" Rodney asked stupidly. The thought of dozens or more of himself going through whatever experiments Ba'al had planned, and more being taken as hosts, made Rodney ill. Not the least because he knew exactly how each of them would feel.

"Yes, but only so we have a spare or two while we're working out any kinks in the therapy." One of the Ba'al's explained as Rodney was firmly turned around and pushed into the chamber. "More importantly, Dr. McKay, This remarkable machine is going to scan and record your genetic code. It's not only going to pick out the traits that give you your remarkable intelligence, it will record your genetic memories as well."

"Oh. What therapy?" Rodney silently begged it wouldn't be like before.

Ba'al smiled at the human and supposed there was no harm in indulging his questions. After all, even if Dr. McKay was returned to his people alive Ba'al intended to detonate the human soon after. It was nothing personal. It was simply necessary to ensure his corner on the market, and to send a message to his would-be rivals. "We're using the samples we gathered from you, and Dr. Beckett's research, to produce a slightly improved gene therapy. It will be interesting to see how you react when your system begins to produce more of the ATA enzymes, among a few other things. Once we've perfected it in you we'll add your unique genetic qualities to the cocktail, and inject it into ourselves. Then we'll transfer all of your knowledge into ourselves."

The clear door of the cloning chamber slid down, trapping Rodney inside. He leaned back and waited for unconsciousness to take him away from the horrible enclosed space. It didn't come, and he opened his eyes to find Ba'al still watching him.

"Try to keep your breathing even, Dr. McKay. Unfortunately, we need you to remain conscious to ensure the cloning chamber has an opportunity to record your higher brain functions." Ba'al smiled charismatically. "This will only take a couple of hours. I'll just give you some space now. If you need anything, someone to chant 'wide open spaces' with you or just chat, don't hesitate to call, I'll be near."

"Not comforting," Rodney managed to snark between gasps.

It was difficult to imagine how this could possible get any worse. He had no hope of escape with those nano-bombs coursing through his system. He had nothing to look forward to but enduring captivity or death. As if blowing up a solar system wasn't bad enough he was now going to be responsible for creating more powerful Goa'uld. He couldn't let that happen.

For the second time in his life, Rodney found himself weighing the pro's and con's of staying alive.

_Rodney scowled at his reflection in a shop window. There were boys that looked older than their age. Some lucky boys his age could probably look like they belonged in college. Rodney had no such luck. He looked too young to even pass for fourteen, his actual age. Everything those freaks that called themselves doctors had done to him had definitely stunted his growth. And it was becoming problematic. _

_The number of times he'd now heard the question, "Where are your parent's young man?" or "Why aren't you in school?" while he tried to rent a room or buy some food was increasing exponentially. One would think there'd be fewer nosy people in a city. _

_His powers were fading fast. It had only been a month since his escape and already it was becoming difficult to still their questions, or even provide himself with a simple distraction while lifting a wallet. He wasn't even so sure he could pull either off again. _

_Rodney's focus shifted from the shop window to the comic book display behind. Magneto, Mysterio, The Green Goblin, all were brilliance scientists, geniuses, as well as powerful. Even Xavier probably manipulated a few minds to gain all those riches. They never would have settled for anything like the situation he found himself in now. They didn't need to. _

_He felt the unwelcome tingle of someone's attention falling on him and turned to look across the street. It was the woman who ran the flower shop. He'd noticed her following him twice, and hanging around the hotel talking to security. He'd been able to look in her mind the first time, and learned that she was nobody to be concerned about, just a busy body. She was pointing at him and talking to two men and a woman. _

_He could just make out what she was saying, "He's out at all hours and I've never seen him with an adult. The people at the hotel stay he's staying their alone. Now, I'm not one to pry but it just doesn't seem right for a boy his age to be unattended."_

_Just great. He'd only been in this part of the city for a week and already someone had called social services, again. He turned and walked in the direction of the hotel, so that they would think he was heading back there, but ducked into an ally when a car went by. _

_This wasn't working anymore. He needed a plan. He ducked out of the side-streets and his eyes fell on a newsstand. More specifically, on a copy of the financial times and a picture of the New York Stock Exchange, and a plan fell in place._

_It only took a month to write a computer virus that attacked the stock market, and through it the world banks. He was able to implant it when he slipped into the building with a school field trip. It added a small amount of money to every transaction and deducted as an invisible tax. The money was then bounce through several false accounts, that would create themselves and erase themselves for that single purpose, to finally in one that Rodney had made for himself. The amount of money taxed was cycled through various struggling currencies. The Venezuelan Bolivar was the equivalent of 0.00046 American dollars. One Ri'al was equivalent to 0.0001 dollars. And so on. It was perfect. Nobody but a completely anal stock market analyst with a genius IQ could have noticed it. Unfortunately, all it took was one._

_He used the money to find the perfect hiding place. Where was the one place in the world where a child could spend copious amounts of money without any adult batting an eye? Disney World, Florida. By the time they'd found him, he'd even set up a secret hide-out worthy of any great comic book villain. It was under the giant model volcano in one of the water parks. All he had to do was alter the company's records of the building, to make them think it was solid rather than hollow. _

_That was where he was when his security camera's picked up a combined CIA and FBI swat team surrounding the base of the volcano. _

_"Come out with your hands up." A voice boomed from outside._

_Rodney stood from where he was sitting, encircled by computers, in panic and tripped over one of his piles of university text books and half eaten pizza. He was still picking himself up off the floor when the door to his lab was kicked in and armed men in full swat armour and masks came flooding in. There was only one direction to run in, the stairs._

"_Hold your fire! It's a kid!" One of the men yelled. _

_Rodney didn't look back, he just pelted up the stairs. He couldn't let them catch him! He ran for an exit near a fire escape, but stopped himself just as it opened to admit more armed men. He ran towards a ladder that would take him higher._

"_Wait! It's alright." One of the masked men lowered his weapon, "Don't run. Look, I'm ordering everyone to lower their weapons." His voice was familiar._

_The men still below and those that had entered on the upper level lowered their weapons. Rodney raised the ladder he had climbed up and turned to climb higher._

"_Rodney, just come on down and we can talk," the man yelled after him._

_Rodney ignored him and kept climbing up the series of platforms and ladders. There was no way he was going to let himself be taken by the government again. He wished he'd left the country. _

"_Did anyone bring tranquilizer rounds?" One voice asked. Rodney climbed faster._

"_Nice work, idiot." Another man chastised. _

_There was a curse, and Rodney felt the platform he'd reached shake. He looked down and saw that one of the men had jumped up and pulled down the lowest ladder. _

"_I'm coming up unarmed!" The somewhat familiar voice shouted up._

_He climbed fast, and was practically on Rodney's heels by the time Rodney reached the mouth of the Volcano. Rodney felt the breeze of a hand trying to grab his ankle as he climbed out onto the ledge and edged around to the far side. _

_When he could go no further he turned and saw that the agent had climbed out too and was holding out a hand towards Rodney._

"_Ok, now this is not safe." The man stupidly stated the obvious. "There's nowhere else to run. So just, carefully, come towards me and we'll go back inside."_

_Rodney didn't move, except to look down over the precarious ledge. The mock volcano was an impressive height, the fall would kill. There was a slant, but likely not enough to slow his fall._

"_Don't get any stupid ideas now." The man moved to inched towards Rodney. _

_Rodney inched further away and gripped the side as though to let himself slide down. _

"_Rodney, stop!" The agent yelled._

_Rodney stilled._

"_Look, I'm staying right here." The man took off his mask, revealing shock of messy grey-white hair and hazel eyes. Rodney recognized him as one of those who had found him when he'd destroyed Pheonix. He was the one who'd wanted to take him to a safe house. _

_Rodney shifted his weight to a slightly safer position on the ledge._

"_Hey there," the man said carefully. He stood completely still, careful not to make any sudden movements. "You probably don't remember me. We never spoke, but I saw you a few times when I was passing through the office. You're Rodney McKay, quite an impressive junior consultant as I recall. Although, junior doesn't usually mean quite so junior. My name's Henry."_

_Henry's eyes darted momentarily towards his earpiece. It was an unconscious gesture, enough to tell Rodney that their conversation was being heard, and this man was receiving instructions. _

"_My friends down below tell me that you have some quite heavy reading down there. Advanced Astronomy, Particle Physics, and some university brochures too. You've been making some ambitious plans."_

_Rodney glowered, "I'm making up for lost time."_

"_Ha!" The man grinned, "You do speak then. Splattering yourself will sort of put a cramp in those plans, don't you think?"_

"_So will letting myself be taken by you," Rodney countered._

_Henry's eyes darted briefly to his radio again, "I've been authorized to offer you a deal. If you come back and work for us, just odd jobs the same as you were doing before, we'll make sure that you get all the further education you want and wipe this whole stock-market thing off your record. So how about it? Come be one of the good-guys again?"_

_Rodney stayed where he was and glowered distrustfully, "How do I know I won't just be made a lab rat again?" _

_Henry gritted his teeth and spoke with forced calm, "You have my word that we will not let that happen again._

"_Alright, look. The way I see it you've got a choice. You can take your chances with that drop, and I've got to say those chances don't look so good. Or you can take your chances with me. You still have a future. Don't let those people who took you take that away too. If you let yourself drop now, they win." _

_Rodney watched the man closely, looking for any sign that he was lying. He couldn't read minds anymore. But he could remember what he'd seen before. He seemed sincere, at least. Rodney logically weighed the pro's and con's of living, and the pro's won. There was too much he still wanted to learn._

And so it came full circle. There was still so much to discover, too many unfinished projects. But this time, the con's had it. He had to come up with a way to destroy the Goa'uld ship, and with it all the research. It was an insultingly simple task for a genius such as himself. Especially since no escape plan would be necessary.

Fortunately, there had been a cloning chamber in Area 51. And Rodney had been the one assigned to reverse engineer it.

Rodney could hardly believe he'd managed to conceal the butter knife this long. Ronon would be proud if it weren't a butter knife. It wasn't exactly a weapon, but it would do as a tool. He slipped the blunt knife out his sleeve and felt where he knew a panel in the cloning chamber should be. A little wiggling with the knife and the panel was pried open.

Rodney carefully felt out the correct conduit and jammed the knife through, the small sharp zap his hand received confirmed that correct amount of voltage was being fed back. It would gradually build up. He estimated that within eight hours the damage would be irreversible, and the unit would blow, taking a sizable chunk of the mother-ship and his clones with it. If the layout of this ship was anything like the diagrams he'd studied in Area 51, it would cause a chain reaction that would destroy the ship, and him with it. The panel slipped back into place easily, concealing his work.

He thought he should be freaking out. All his potential, all he had planned to accomplish for humanity with his brilliance, would soon go up in smoke. He was scared. Just no more than he was used to by now. But he also felt sort of peaceful. It was over. No more running. No more hiding.


	28. Intergalactic Red Tape

Chapter 28 – Intergalactic Red Tape

The engineering level of the Daedalus was hushed while their resident Asgard worked to find ways to reroute damaged power conduits and cut the predicted repair time. Several of them had already made the unfortunate mistake of relaying messages from Atlantis and Dr. Weir to Hermiod. He had not reacted positively to the interruptions. Now he was being given a wide berth. Though he could tell Dr. Novak had not gone far. Her distant, muffled, hiccups could still be heard.

The humans were never quite sure how to react when Hermiod was in a bad mood, so they tended to keep their distance and try not to upset him further. Not wishing to upset relations with a powerful ally, most humans went to great pains to remain polite and cater to the Asgard amidst them. All with the exception of Dr. McKay, who was more than willing to bicker and argue and, hopelessly, competed with the Asgard Engineer. He responded to Hermiod as though the alien were no different than any other human.

Hermiod had been among the more vocal opponents of allying with the humans. They were far too young, far too emotional, far too primitive. They lacked advancement. The fact that the efforts of the humans thus far had saved his race and been of great assistance to multiple galaxies he could only have ascribed to what the humans themselves termed as 'dumb luck'.

He was intended to be only an observer. At the most he should run routine diagnostics, and occasionally advise so that the Asgard technology worked into the ship was not misused. But gradually the humans had come to view him as a ranking member of the engineering crew. To the point where they expected him to pitch in when work needed to be done urgently, bend the rules when their lives depended upon it and, worst of all, to be on the general maintenance rota.

An Asgard ship was run by daily routines and due process, they were purely efficient. Humans were so disorganized and undisciplined in comparison. Though, it was his understanding that Colonel Caldwell was anything but lax, by human standards. It was a taxing environment to adjust to. Still, Hermiod had managed to find some semblance of order on the chaotic ship. He even found himself enjoying some of their more colourful turns of phrase.

Perhaps it was due to his prolonged exposure that he found himself adjusting to these humans and even taking on some of their traits. After-all, he had to make do. Although, Hermiod sometimes wondered if he should be concerned that he'd begun to think of himself as 'him'self. Is a member of a genderless species capable of gender confusion? He shook his head and grumbled as he pulled out still more hopelessly burned out cabling and circuitry from the conduit leading directly to the engine.

The humans had called on him to bend the rules on how far he could assist on a few occasions. He had done so, as it was a matter of life and death, in the interests of self preservation. No doubt reading his reports and defending explanations had given Thor insufferably great satisfaction.

For some reason, Thor thought it fitting to send the most vocal opponents to this alliance to be his ambassadors. As though watching the humans at work, first hand, would change their minds and lead them all to see as he did. Thor was convinced that the humans had some special quality to their nature, their very way of thinking and being, which the Asgard must learn from if their dieing race was to survive.

Grudgingly, Hermiod had to admit that his opinion was indeed changing, and in no small part due to his observance of Dr. McKay. This human seemed to have taken it upon himself to prove to the entire Asgard race, apparently represented in Hermiod, that humans were none of the things Hermiod had assumed.

Each time the Daedalus was in port the arrogant and insistent human would arrive with a laptop filled with physics theories and calculations. And being a member of a lesser species didn't stop the irritatingly excitable human from asking constant probing, and disturbingly insightful, questions regarding Asgard technology every chance he had.

The human physicist had proven capable of insight in both his theories and in his solutions to various threatening problems. It both surprised and annoyed Hermiod. The insufferable human seemed to think it a great accomplishment each time he was proven correct, especially when he was a step ahead of the resident Asgard, and was arrogant beyond belief. Nevertheless Hermiod, again grudgingly, had to admit that even he owed his life to the quick thinking on a few occasions.

And Dr. McKay's visits, however annoying his human prattle and pride had seemed at the time, had become part of Hermiod's routine. Particularly once the earth game, chess, became part of the routine. It had been disconcerting, to say the least, when Dr. McKay had failed to visit the past two times the Daedalus was in port. Hermiod wondered if he should have sought out the human himself. Even now it did not seem right that the Daedalus was in port and undergoing repairs without Dr. McKay offering, unasked for, advice and poking his nose around. Remarkably, the human would ever so occasionally see a solution that Hermiod did not, though Hermiod would never admit it at the time.

Thus, Hermiod told himself that it was in the interests of self preservation that he now pushed himself to work as quickly as he was capable to repair a ship he had no hope of repairing in time to be of use. It stood to reason that his chances of surviving this assignment would be, perhaps not significantly but at least somewhat, reduced by the permanent absence of Dr. McKay.

It was the humans around him who seemed to believe that there was hope as long as they continued to do all that they could. Hermiod found himself caught up in it, as he worked to repair the ship faster than humanly, or 'Asgardly', possible. The constant interruptions from humans with foolish questions like 'is it done yet' or 'how much longer' or 'we need a report', had finally slowed. Unsurprisingly, the deluge of questions had ended immediately after he'd announced on ship-wide, "I know that you are not the Ancients, but surely you are at least capable of understanding that it will be done when it is done and interrupting him will only slow the process. Do not interrupt me again."

What he was studiously trying not to acknowledge was that nobody had actually asked him to lead this repair effort, nor had anyone asked him to use Asgard Technology to free Colonel Caldwell from the influence of the Goa'uld. This volunteerism was disconcerting. Every such deviation from the protocol of his posting would need to be reported, and his reasoning backed up and explained, to the Council. No doubt Thor would be pleased.

_Hic! Hiccup! Hic!_

"That is distracting." Hermiod stated irritably.

"S-hic-ry!" Dr. Novak apologized even whilst continuing with her annoying affliction.

_Hic_

Hermiod narrowed his eyes at Dr. Novak.

Normally Dr. Novak would have been long past being able to be so ruffled by the chronically irritable Asgard. But he'd been getting worse for the past couple of months, and she was pretty sure she knew why. It could be no coincidence that Hermiod's irritability had begun increasing when Dr. McKay had stopped visiting, and was at all new heights now that he was missing entirely. He hadn't been pleased at all the last time she'd relayed a message from the Atlantean Command team. Not at all.

_Hic_

"Is there a reason you are here?" Hermiod asked coolly.

"Y-_hic_-ou, shouldn't _hiccup_ worry _hic_." Dr. Novak hiccupped out.

"Please, take a deep breath and swallow before addressing me again." Hermiod suggested in a way he considered polite.

Dr. Novak did as requested, and fortunately was able to calm herself down, "I um, _hic_… …._swallow_…I was saying that you shouldn't worry. I've been with the Stargate program for a while now and things like this tend to work out."

The hiccups had improved, but Hermiod sincerely hoped that this little attempt at consolation was not the sole reason that Dr. Novak had chosen to interrupt his efforts to repair the Daedalus so that Dr. McKay could be rescued.

"Dr. Weir asked me to tell you that the Asgard vessel has arrived. She is hoping that you might, _hic_, possibly, _hiccup_…" Novak always hiccupped more when she was about to ask Hermiod to go out of his way to do something. It was an unfortunate side-effect of the manner in which he usually said no. But this time it was the surprised blink of his eyes when he turned fully to her, "Um, nobody told you, _hiccup_, they were coming?"

Hermiod blinked at her again, suddenly less irritable, "I was not aware that an Asgard vessel was within reach of us. Dr. Weir must desire my advice to negotiate as much assistance as possible."

Novak hiccupped and nodded.

Hermiod wasted no time in beaming himself to Dr. Weir's office, with finally something more efficient to occupy his time than meaningless repairs that were unlikely to be of use to the immediate problem.

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"We're allies!" Dr. Weir's pleading voice greeted him. She was not addressing Hermiod, though she nodded to him in acknowledgement before continuing her conversation with the air. "We need your help. There must be something more you can do!"

A reasonable, Asgard, voice replied through the sound system. No doubt they were broadcasting from orbit, 'As I have said, Dr. Weir, we were asked only to relay a message. I am sorry that it was too late, though it is good that your losses have been minimal. However, we are not equipped as a battle ship, nor are we authorized to engage in such combat. We are now running behind schedule and must continue our research mission.'

Dr. Weir appeared outraged, "With all due respect, your research mission is not what's important right now. One of our people has been taken and we are crippled. At least come down here and talk to me."

'Sadly, Dr. Weir, this is only a research vessel and all of our current crew are researchers. We have no-one authorized for diplomatic engagement of this nature.' The Asgard didn't sound remorseful, though their voices rarely held emotional inflection. No doubt these Asgard also believed the alliance to be folly, and viewed this situation as evidence that the humans were incapable, dependent, and thus undeserving.

"What do you mean nobody is 'authorized'?" Dr. Weir demanded. She had no way of knowing the strict casts and codes that the Asgard functioned within. Diplomats were diplomats, leaders were leaders, researchers researched, scientists were scientists, engineers engineered, it was what their genetic coding and genetic personalities were pre-dispositioned to after thousands of years of selective development.

"I am authorized." Hermiod stated firmly so that the Asgard ship would hear.

There was a short pause, 'You are an engineer. Your diplomatic status was granted due to your placement on the human vessel.'

"Nevertheless," Hermiod continued, "No such limits were placed on my current diplomatic rank. I may choose to function fully, as I see fit, in accordance to our laws."

If an Asgard could sound flustered, this one now did, 'This is not how your status was meant to be implemented.'

"I am sure you will make your opinions fully known in your report to the Council," Hermiod dismissed, "but for now you will extend full cooperation to Dr. Weir, beginning with sending at least seventy percent of your engineering compliment to the Daedalus. I expect you will have no trouble providing the replacement parts necessary in a timely manner. Dr. Weir and myself will beam aboard your vessel shortly, then I will engage in negotiations with the commander of the Goa'uld Mothership."

"Very well," The Asgard voice agreed reluctantly, "But the Council will hear of this."

When the Asgard ship broke communication Elizabeth regarded Hermiod with a look of pleasant surprise and appreciation. It was obvious that Hermiod was risking a lot by helping in this way. The Asgard, in her experience, were typically more reluctant to volunteer assistance to any less advanced species, even allies. "I don't want to sound unappreciative, Hermiod, but why are you doing this?"

Black alien eyes stared blankly at nothing in particular as he took a moment to search for an answer, it was a surprisingly human gesture, "I find that in his absence I lack a suitable chess partner."

For someone who tried so hard to keep people away, Elizabeth mused, Rodney certainly seemed to have a knack for making unusual friends, "Thank you, Hermiod."

"It is as you said. We are allies," Hermiod answered in a deceptively emotionless tone. "I estimate the repairs to the Daedalus have been reduced to a mere six hours. However, I fear that it will still be far too long. We cannot expect the Goa'uld Pyramid ship to remain in this Galaxy indefinitely. And it is true that a research vessel is not capable of engaging in such combat. They are designed only to briefly defend and retreat."

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully, "Don't the Asgard have treaties with the Goa'uld? Surely they must be in breach of several."

"Yes," Hermiod confirmed, "But final judgements on such matters can only be made by the Asgard High Council. And it would take far too long for a ship capable of enforcing that judgement to reach us."

The human diplomat narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, "We don't need a judgement though, do we. We just need to stall them long enough for the Daedalus to complete repairs. We will work out a rescue plan if you keep the Goa'uld Mothership in this solar system."

Hermiod once again found himself surprised by human ingenuity, "That may be possible."

Elizabeth smiled, "Good. Let's get Rodney home."

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Ba'al leaned back comfortably into his throne in the central command room of the Mothership. Several overhead monitors displayed key locations in the vessel; the engine room, the room housing the cloning chambers and Dr.McKay, the laboratories that had been specially prepared, and the still empty space surrounding the ship.

He was surprised that there had yet been no sign of the humans coming to retrieve their little lost scientist. Maybe he'd overestimated their loyalty to their prickly scientist. Or perhaps his servants had been less incompetent than he'd originally thought. Either way Ba'al knew he was working on borrowed time.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than did an Asgard science vessel drop out of warp and settle alongside his great Mothership.

"Ha!" he let out a quick, mirthful, laugh. "Surely that can't be the rescue."

A Ba'al monitoring another station raised his eyebrows amusedly and looked up at himself in the Throne. "They're requesting an audience."

"Then I suppose I should give them one." Ba'al suggested to himself.

"It would be rude of me not to," Ba'al agreed.

Ba'al waved his hand familiarly across the air, and a holographic screen appeared in front of him. An Asgard face, boringly identical to any other, blinked back at him. More interestingly, a pretty human female stood at the Asgard's side.

"Ah," Ba'al greeted with a polite bow of his head, "You must be the lovely Dr. Weir. How may I help you?"

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"That's an Asgard Warship?" Ronon looked between his pleased looking Commander and the unimpressive ship that had just arrived carrying Dr. Weir.

Teyla had doubts as well, "That does not look like a battleship."

Sheppard's eyes remained lit up, "Oh, believe me. They're tougher than they look.

"You have seen them in battle?" The Satedan looked disbelievingly at Sheppard.

"No," Sheppard answered a bit defensively, "but I've read the mission reports and they have really good weapons."

"Then why are they requesting an audience?" Ronon asked blandly.

Sheppard searched for a sensible answer to the admittedly good question, "They're just giving the bad-guys a fair chance to surrender."

Teyla and Ronon shared a tired look and turned their gaze back onto the smaller vessel facing the enormous Mothership.

The authoritative voice of Elizabeth addressed the Mothership, and she sounded like she meant business. _"This is Dr. Elizabeth of Earth and leader of the Atlantis Expedition. In keeping with treaty 67934-2 of the Trimvorathius Accord I charge you with crimes against Earth and humanity. Also, you have one of my people and I want him back."_

Sheppard threw an 'I told you so' look at Ronon. Ronon ignored it as he always did when waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"_Those are some big charges, Dr. Weir," _The Goa'uld answered amiably. He didn't sound the least bit intimidated._ "Asgard ship Carter II, I presume you will be acting as intermediary during these preliminary discussions?"_

"_I will," _answered that same Asgard voice. _"Am I to understand that you agree to enter into negotiations?"_

"_Of course!" _the Goa'uld seemed scandalized that the Asgard would suggest otherwise._ "I have nothing to hide."_

There was a short pause before the Asgard responded again, "_Am I to understand that you deny charges?"_

"_I submit that the esteemed Dr. Weir has, quite understandably, mis-interpreted my actions. I am not attacking the human race. Rather I am working to save it!"_ The slippery Goa'uld announced.

There was another short pause before the Asgard responded, _"I will hear your arguments."_

Teyla and Ronon levelled their gazes on Sheppard, who in turn shrugged awkwardly, "Ok. So it's not a warship."

His two team members appeared entirely unsurprised by this revelation, and not at all pleased.

Ronon was never one to let his displeasure pass in silence. "So now we're supposed to sit here and wait while they try to TALK these Goa'uld into letting McKay go?"

The tactical wheels turned in Sheppard's head as he looked grimly at the little Asgard ship, "You know Elizabeth. She'll have a good plan. More ships must be on their way. They must be stalling, to make sure the Goa'uld stay here long enough for help to come."

"I hope you're right," Ronon grumbled, and settled down to wait again.

John watched the sensor readings for any change in the Mothership, and he waited. He thought about all the things that could be happening to his team member and friend while he just sat there, doing nothing.

"Before we begin," Elizabeth interjected, _"I would like to speak with Dr. McKay, to see that he is alright."_

"_I'm afraid that won't be possible." _The Goa'uld's voice oozed with false regret,_ "He really is quite engaged at the moment."_

Sheppard clenched his teeth, and the aura of rage emanating from Ronon increased exponentially. If those power-crazed uber-slugs did anything to Rodney they were going to hunt them down to the end of the universe personally.

"_Then you admit you have him." _ Elizabeth stated. It wasn't a question. And so the fierce, and long, negotiations began.


	29. Rescue?

Chapter 29 – Rescue?

The man who was now, temporarily, in charge of Atlantis walked briskly towards the Atlantis mess hall. Cadman, with her brow permanently furrowed into a worry line, and a small armed security detail shadowed him. He'd tried joking to her that her face was going to stick that way and he hadn't even gotten a punch out of it.

Come to think of it, Lorne could feel his own worry lines threatening to stick. Running a city was definitely not fun. Between directing security details around the city and coordinating with Dr. Beckett's team to ensure nobody else was infected, he'd been breaking up 'professional' disputes within the science teams, dealing with constant questions from the civilians about whether they were safe, if he knew what was happening with the rescue mission, if the Daedalus was repaired yet, and to top it all off he had just been asked why the entire combined engineering crews of the Daedalus and Atlantis, with one Dr. Zelenka, were on an extended coffee break in the commissary.

To settle the disputes he'd closed the labs and sent the scientists to their rooms on threat of placing an armed guard at their doors. It was late anyway. Sleep would be good for them. Though he had a feeling he was going to pay for that later.

The answer to question of whether they were safe was yes, for now. Zelenka and his team had found no other tampering. Dr. Parker had been returned to earth to be freed from the Goa'uld mind control. Dr. Beckett had seemed to think that repeatedly shooting the woman with a Wraith stunner, modifying it, then shooting her again and hoping for the best, was not ideal. The good news was that all of the other blood tests on the crew of the Daedalus and Atlantis had come up negative for the Goa'uld mind control agent or a Goa'uld host. For the latter he'd thrown in some neck and brain scans just to be on the safe side.

The Mothership was still at the edge of the galaxy and Weir was doing a good job of stalling. All the jumpers and jumper pilots they could spare were on stand-by to assist.

The Daedalus was not repaired yet.

As for why the work on the Daedalus had apparently stopped, he didn't have an answer for that last question, but he was on his way to get one.

He wasn't sure he believed it. Either this was someone's idea of an ill-timed practical joke and he'd find the commissary empty, or something weird was going on. The only report he'd had from the officer who had seen them was that they looked like they were in a miserable mood. Lorne wondered if maybe the ship was irreparable and nobody had bothered to inform him. Either way, tact that couldn't be accomplished over a radio might be in order. He almost wished they would all turn out to be infected with some Goa'uld drug or something. That would be a security situation, later to be handed over to medical. That he could handle. Diplomacy, on the other hand, was just not his thing.

Lorne was particularly surprised that anything could have dragged Dr.Zelenka away from the repairs. But, there had been a lot of surprises lately, especially today. When Lorne woke up this morning he never would have guessed in a million years that he'd be left in charge of a city that had been infiltrated by the Goa'uld while the city's Leader and Military Commander went to rescue the Leader of the Science Department from said Goa'uld. Teyla would be left in charge before he would. But she was also on the rescue mission.

He hoped today wouldn't have anymore surprises. Honestly, he didn't see how anything else could possibly be surprising today. If anything, he was expecting the unexpected.

When the doors to the commissary slid open Lorne was surprised to see that the report had been true. The room full of lounging engineers chatted normally, though they did seem somewhat annoyed and upset, none appeared out of the ordinary other than that they were here rather than doing their jobs. Zelenka was leaning over a cup of coffee. Lorne felt a surge of annoyance as he made a line straight for Zelenka's table, "What's going on here? Aren't you all supposed to be getting the Daedalus ready to go?" Again, diplomacy wasn't his thing.

The Daedalus' nervous Head of Engineering, who was also at Zelenka's table, hiccupped and looked up at Major Lorne with perpetually surprised blue eyes, then quickly stood to attention, "I hic appolog hic ize sir! The Asgard kicked us out."

Lorne furrowed his brows and tried to smile in a way that would put the woman at ease, though he felt like it probably came across as more of a grimace. So he lifted a hand in the universal gesture of 'calm down'. "It's ok." He turned to anyone else in the room, "Why don't you tell me what happened."

An unfamiliar engineer responded, "They said the work would go faster without us."

At that there erupted the familiar sound of a sulky, Czech, grumble from Dr Zelenka, followed by an elaboration. "What they actually say is that we have but minds of children; undeveloped in comparison to them, ignorant. And that guiding us through repair process would only waste valuable time."

"That's… harsh," was all Lorne could think to say in response. From what he'd heard, it was also pretty typical of the Asgard.

Dr. Novak only nodded her agreement as she was holding her breath and swallowing.

"They are like tyrant army of little McKays", Radek elaborated fittingly. The already low mood in the room plummeted at the reminder of their missing comrade.

"They also said they were going to use tools we weren't allowed to see yet to help the repairs go faster," Novak supplied. She seemed to have gotten the hiccups under control.

Well, that seemed reasonable to Lorne. But one look at the dark cloud hanging around Dr. Zelenka told him that was not the diplomatic response for this situation.

"So uh," Lorne ventured as tactfully as he could, "Not that I'm blaming you for getting kicked off your ship or anything," several glares turned his way, "but I'd appreciate it if you kept me in the loop next time."

"Of course," Zelenka answered apologetically, "we had not realized that the Asgard had not informed you first, but we should have checked anyway."

"Hey, it's ok," Lorne shrugged magnanimously, "It's late, we're all tired, and it's been a weird day."

Zelenka pulled his coffee mug closer and rubbed his temple tiredly, "It certainly has."

The relief in the room was palpable when an Asgard finally appeared in the room and announced, "The Daedalus is ready."

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The glint of mischief in Ba'al's eyes as he 'negotiated' with Dr. Elizabeth Weir had been dulled by boredom some hours ago. It was more than a little obvious that they were stalling.

Ba'al smiled, and quickly replayed the last few sentences in his head, when the human paused in her argument and was unfortunately awaiting a response, "I'm just continuing what your people already did. Wasn't it your government that first imprisoned and experimented upon your Dr.McKay? I ask, is it fair to expect more of me than you expect of yourselves?"

Ba'al tuned out, again, from whatever counter-argument the human female was making as she continued to stall for whatever her people had planned.

As it turned out, stalling worked in Ba'al's favour. He was more than willing to accept as much time as they were willing to give him to learn all he could of this Dr. McKay and the experiments his people had performed on him. So he played along, tedious as it had become. He glanced at the holographic monitor holding the cloning chamber. He would be visiting Dr. McKay shortly to move onto the next phase of the experiment, if time allowed. So, tedious as these false negotiations were, Ba'al was willing to make the sacrifice for himself.

"Be that as it may," Ba'al interrupted whatever nonsense the human had been spouting about earth law and it being wrong whether it was broken by humans Goa'uld, "Dr. Weir. You've accused me of crimes against your entire race. How is it that you presume to speak for your entire race when the vast majority of your people know nothing of the Stargates, any of the intergalactic wars a small fraction of your people have taken part in, or of what another, equally secretive, part of one of your worlds many, many governments created in Dr. McKay?"

Ba'al glanced at the monitor again. Finally, a small cluster of Ba'al's entered the room containing the cloning chambers. They bustled around, outside of the humans range of sight, quietly gathering together all the research and samples they'd attained thus far.

Overconfidence was one common shortfall of his kind that Ba'al liked to think he'd outgrown. He didn't know what sort of rescue operation the humans and Asgard had in mind, or how many ships were on his way, so he intended to secure his investment. The most important data had been gathered. There would be no need to stall much longer.

The human scientist was now disposable. So he would move onto the more dangerous portion of the study, which he also took what he had learned thus far to a safe location.

Being able to be in multiple locations at once certainly had advantages.

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Ronon had taken to leaning against the Puddle Jumper wall and rhythmically hitting his head against it. If he hadn't been here to see it first hand, he never would have believed they'd spent all this time sitting in a Puddle Jumper, listening to Weir and that Goa'uld thing 'negotiate' over McKay's life.

"Ronon. "Would you sit down and stop that? Please?" Sheppard pleaded tiredly.

Ronon paused and looked at his commander, "Is that an order?"

"If it has to be," Sheppard commanded in an overly patient tone. "I don't want blood on my jumper wall, and I don't want you coming down with a headache before the rescue."

"What rescue?" Ronon asked blandly.

"This… rescue." Sheppard informed lamely before gritting his teeth with determination. "Look. We're going to rescue him."

"When?" Ronon asked in the same tone.

"Soon," Sheppard assured.

"This is the worst rescue ever." Ronon announced and flopped back into his seat.

Teyla frowned at her two team mates. "I too fear that this is taking too long. But", she turned pointedly to Ronon, "There is nothing more we can do for the time being except wait for an opportunity to present itself."

"That's right," Sheppard nodded appreciatively at his diplomatic team member. "So as soon as an opportunity presents itself, we'll take it."

Just then, the bay doors leading into the Goa'uld ship slid open. The three team mates leaned forward in their seats disbelievingly.

"That looks like an opportunity." Ronon grinned menacingly.

Teyla continued to stare at the opening doors, "But why?"

But Sheppard wasn't wasting any time questioning the apparent stroke of luck, "We'll worry about why later."

The cloaked jumper slid silently into the Mothership, with no way of knowing how close they came to colliding with the cloaked Goa'uld scout-ship exiting.

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By Rodney's estimations, he had about three quarters of an hour, tops, before the overload he'd set up went critical. The feedback building up in one chamber was too small to draw attention. But once it went critical he would be the first to go. Then it would set off a chain reaction with the other chambers. And if memory served him, which it always did, they were situated in a prime position to hit the ships core power system and progress from there to the rest of the ship.

He swallowed hard and struggled to keep his breathing steady, given the situation. It would be quick and painless. At least preferable to a lot of the other probable ways he could have died in the Pegasus Galaxy. It was definitely better than death by Wraith, death by ejection into space, death by asphyxiation. This line of thought was doing nothing for his hyperventilation, so he tried to think of something else.

The only thing that came to mind was regrets. More than anything, Rodney regretted isolating himself the way he had. All the precautions he'd taken had ultimately been for nothing. Just look at where he was now.

Whenever Teyla had questioned him about earth culture, he'd answered her questions until she started asking about his own experiences. Then he steered the conversation in another direction, made excuses to be somewhere else, or lied. Lying was the worst. He knew he'd alienated both her and Ronon. Rodney had liked Ronon ever since the total stranger had saved his life. It was a good first impression. Ronon had a way of standing back and observing people for a ling tome before deciding what to think of them, whether to trust them. If anyone could have understood where Rodney was coming from, it probably would have been Ronon. Rodney regretted not taking advantage of that.

He wished he could watch that football game with Sheppard one more time. He wished he'd asked Radek more about his life before the Stargate Program, maybe even laughed at one or two of those Czech jokes his fellow scientist always told to try and prove that Rodney could understand.

Sheppard probably would have gotten a kick out of his secret hide-out in Disney World, if Rodney had ever gotten around to telling him.

Carson was without a doubt one of the most brilliant medical doctors he'd ever known. More than that, he was a good friend. Rodney had immensely enjoyed all the time he spent poking around the med-labs, looking at Carson's work and slipping in suggestions in the form of sarcastic quips or absent rambling. The good natured Scott always welcomed him. A friend like that was rare, virtually non-existent in Rodney's experience. Not asking for Carson's help as soon as he'd recognized something was wrong had been hard. He wished he'd trusted Carson sooner.

Rodney regretted placing Elizabeth in such a difficult position, especially considering how long they'd known each other. She was patient and loyal, and she deserver better.

At least now none of them would be hurt because of him. At approximately thirty minutes to detonation, Rodney closed his eyes and waited.

"Wakey, wakey!" The far too cheerful voice of one of his Goa'uld captives broke through Rodney's final thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rodney bit out sarcastically, "Will sleeping ruin your scans too?"

The Ba'al just smiled, "Not at all. But it's time to come out. I'm waiting down the hall for the final phase, and I hate to keep myself waiting."

"Quite," agreed another Ba'al standing outside of Rodney's line of sight. "One mustn't be rude to oneself."

One thing that Rodney decided he wouldn't miss was the messed up sense of identity these clones had. He swallowed and forced himself to look his captor in the eye. "What are you going to do next?"

"All will be explained," the Goa'uld replied as he opened the door and pulled Rodney out of the chamber. Rodney dug his heels in, having gotten used to the idea of a quick, painless death by vaporization.

He was quickly flanked by the two Ba'al's. "Come now. You've been so co-operative so far. Must you make things difficult now?"

Rodney searched for a way to stall them, "W-what about supper? I thought you were going to feed me regularly. Y'know, to be humanitarian and all."

The two Goa'uld exchanged a laboured look before one answered. "Doctor, I'm sure you know as well as anyone that the cloning chamber will have supplied and maintained all your body's needs during your stay within it."

"Uh," Rodney stammered, "Would you believe that I like your cooking?"

Both Goa'uld smiled broadly with amusement, "Come along now Doctor."

They ignored any further protests as they lifted Rodney off the floor by his arms and carried him down the halls.

The room they took him too was enormous. It had to be the largest single room on the ship, and it had been cleared of everything but a single reclining chair and a small cluster of diagnostic equipment. One Ba'al stood beside the chair. He smiled warmly at his two doubles and at Rodney as they came through the door. "Welcome, Dr. McKay. We thought you might prefer being in a nice spacious room after your time in the chamber."

The smile faltered when the two Ba'al's flanking Rodney set him down and Rodney continued with struggling to pull back as they dragged him towards the chair. "Dr. McKay! Really!"

The Goa'uld half scolded and half cooed, "I thought we were past this. There's no way you can over power us and no means of escape. Your most logical course of action is to relax and allow whatever will be to be."

"Yes. You're only succeeding in causing yourself further distress and possibly bruising," one of the other Goa'uld added in and, as if to prove the point, pushed Rodney into the chair forcible and held him there while the other pushed up his sleeves and strapped him in.

Once he was secured the Ba'al that had been waiting with the chair proceeded to fill a needle with a strange, clear, liquid from a long row of vials.

"What's that?" Rodney asked, with his eyes glued to the needle.

"This," Ba'al answered as he approached the hopelessly restrained human, "Is an improved ATA therapy."

Rodney tried to pull back into the chair and ineffectually pulled his wrists against the restraints. Twenty-five minutes, give or take. If he could just stall for that long his death might still be relatively painless. "What about those other vials?"

Ba'al motioned to the other two Ba'als and Rodney's arm was soon being gripped and held steady, while the other held his shoulders against the chair.

"Those are just variations on the treatment. We will be boosting the effects of the ATA therapy incrementally. This is the first treatment." Ba'al explained as he forced the needle into Rodney's arm, through tensed muscles and tightened tendons.

Rodney hissed at the painful intrusion, "How much? What do you expect to happen?"

Ba'al smiled serenely and disposed of the used needle, "We'll find that out when it takes effect in a few hours."

"A few hours," Rodney repeated, mildly relieved. Maybe that was the end of it. "So, I guess we'll just wait and see."

"Not at all," Ba'al popped the bubble of hope and moved to a tray holding some alien devices. "We may as well use the time constructively."

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Ba'al averted his gaze from the projection of Dr. Weir, to holographic security monitors. They had just switched from displaying the corridors of the ship, to a view of the space surrounding his ship. So he didn't see the three humans skulking down his corridors with weapons drawn, one of them holding a life-signs detector. What he did see was the Daedalus, with F-302's and puddle jumpers taking strategic positions around the Mothership.

"Dr.Weir," Ba'al said in a tone of false surprise as he turned his attention back to Dr. Weir, "I thought these were to be peaceful negotiations. We were getting along so well."

The human narrowed her eyes "While I would like it very much if you returned Dr.McKay to us peacefully I want to be clear that, one way or another, we're getting him back."

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Ba'al turned back to Rodney, holding a small, round, black device with a flat side and an equally small rectangular device, of similar construction. He attached the round one to Rodney's temple, and the rectangle to his forehead, then picked up what must have been remote controls.

Rodney gulped and waited for the explanation he knew would be coming.

He didn't have to wait for long. "We acquired these from an interesting race. They were quite keen on the science of torture."

Rodney stared at him in horror.

"Of course", Ba'al was quick to add, "that's not what we'll be using them for."

"You're insane!" Rodney hated how his voice cracked.

"This device," Ba'al picked up a remote and motioned to Rodney's forehead, "has the remarkable ability to block specified higher and lower brain functions. We will be using it to specifically block your senses of sight, sound, taste, and touch. I think you'll agree that it's far more sophisticated than locking you in a little box. Don't you think?"

Rodney responded at the speed of lightning, "N-no-no-no-no." He looked desperately between the three Ba'al's. He didn't want to die this way. "Look, I know you probably won't believe me but I'm telling you, it doesn't work the way you think it will. It can't! The Ancients mental capacity and understanding evolved alongside their power. You might be able to artificially stimulate the relevant parts of my brain but I won't be able to control it. It's impossib…"

Ba'al activated something on the remote and Rodney suddenly found he had no voice. He glared at the Ba'al holding the remote and struggled all the harder against his restraints while continuing to mouth his message. _IT WON'T WORK!_

But Ba'al's eyes were on a second remote. "This remote controls the device I've attached to your left temple. It works to stimulate specified area's of your brain. Thanks to your Dr. Beckett's work, we know precisely which area's of your brain to stimulate." He motioned to a larger device that hung over the chair, with a monitor, which looked like a cross between Asgard and Goa'uld construction, "This will record your brain functions and vital signs. Now, let's not waste anymore time, shall we?"

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They had quietly sped down four corridors now, without running into any guards, and no sign of life appearing on the detector. It sort of put a damper on Sheppard's impromptu plan of 'capture a guard and question him to find out where McKay was.'

"This ship is large, we are unlikely to find Rodney this way." Teyla observed. "Perhaps if we can contact the Asgard ship they can detect where there is life on this ship."

That gave Sheppard an idea. He wished for the life sign detector to expand its range to cover the entire Mothership, and it obeyed. If Rodney were here he probably would have suggested that sooner. Rodney was the one who usually handled the detector and was the expert on its range and capabilities. "Six life signs," Sheppard announced. "Two near the centre of the ship, that's probably the throne room."

"Throne room?" Ronon questioned.

Sheppard shrugged, "They have this god complex and like to be worshipped."

Teyla leaned around Sheppard and peered at the detector. "Then it is most likely the two in the throne room who are speaking with Dr. Weir. We should seek the other four."

"Sounds like a plan," Sheppard agreed.

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Rodney opened his mouth to scream, in a vain attempt to overpower the device that had stolen his voice, desperate to make Ba'al understand. He wasn't some sort of superhero like the Trust, the Military, and now the Goa'uld seemed to hope. He was just a pathetic lab experiment gone wrong. He was a mistake. _Oh please oh please. Don't do this._

The Goa'uld's expression almost held regret as he looked into the frightened humans wide, pleading eyes. "Try to remain calm, Doctor. And remember, this is for the ultimate good of two Galaxies. With your help the Goa'uld will become powerful enough to defeat the Prior's. When we're done, you have my word we'll come after the Wraith."

Ba'al looked at the human's unchanged expression and sighed. "Let's begin."

The human's struggles became more sporadic and confused as his sense of touch was removed. He licked his lips and his breathing became faster as the sense of taste was removed as well. Ba'al realized that it must now be impossible for the human to tell if there was even air in the room. He keyed in the commands that would regulate the humans breathing before proceeding. The human's eyes darted around frantically when his hearing was removed, before finally locking into an unseeing gaze.

_The total darkness was nothing like he'd ever experienced before. The silence should have throbbed in his ears. But he couldn't even feel his own heart and the blood that must have been pumping through his veins was silent. The complete lack of sensation flooded over him, surrounding him, drowning him. Then he felt the pull; a flicker at the back of his mind._

"It's working," Ba'al reported to his-selves. His eyes were glued to the readings and an easy grin spread across his face. There was nothing like the thrill of discovery, and this one would change the future of his entire race.

_Starved of stimulation his mind began to reach of it's own accord, as it had so many times before. Robbed of his voice he searched for something else to fight with. He still had his mind. He just had to think about something else. Just for a while. He frantically searched for something else to think about, to take his focus, and grasped at the first thing that came to mind. Caffeine. Medical name. Trimethylxanthine. Molecular formula. __C__8__H__10__N__4__O__2__. Mass, __194.19 g·mol__−1__, International Chemical Identifier, 1/C8H10N4O2/c1-10-4-9-6-5(10)7(13)12(3)8(14)11(6)2/h4H,1-3H3…_

The promising readings levelled and dropped. Ba'al turned his eyes from the monitor to the human captive in annoyance. The human scientist's lips were moving, reciting the equations of simple earth sciences. "Why must humans always be so difficult? We kindly advise that there's no use in struggling and what does he waste all of our time doing?"

The two Ba'al's still flanking the human mirrored his dismay.

He picked up the remote which controlled the device that would forcefully stimulate the relevant area's of the humans mind, and keyed in the relevant commands. The readings on the monitor immediately spiked back up. "Ah. Much better."

_Glucose, 6-(hydroxymethyl)oxane-2,3,4,5-tetrol, __C__6__H__12__O__6, Molecular Mass, 180.16 g mol−1… A searing pain shattered the perfectly decent cup of coffee he'd been forming and his fragile control shattered with it. His mind drew inward sharply, searching for perception, the pain intensified as perception was found. It was almost a relief as he became aware of his beating heart, the air moving in and out of his lungs, he could 'see' every molecule more clearly than ever before. All at once, his surroundings snapped into focus. _

The moment the second device had been activated the human had gone limp. One of the Ba'al's was now focussed entirely on checking the humans life signs. "He's stable. Let's take it up a notch."

_The searing pain turned into a full fledged fire. His mind stretched outward to escape the flames. The minds of the three Ba'al's surrounding him, and their suppressed host consciousness, melded confusingly as his awareness of them overlapped. It still burned, and his mind stretched farther to find Ba'al, Ba'al, Ba'al, another Ba'al, Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon, Elizabeth. No! They couldn't be here. They'd die in the explosion. He had to warn them._

"His temperature and heart rate are increasing rapidly." Ba'al advised himself. He watched beads of sweat forming on the humans suddenly pale skin. The feint lines of blood vessels were becoming almost visible through the ghostly pallor. "Interesting."

Prior blue eyes, pale as ice, flashed open and looked straight through Ba'al.

Ba'al straightened and took a step back, "Very interesting."

The other two Ba'al's joined him to observe the human, just in time to see the straps holding the human into place burst into flame and disintegrate.

"Time to terminate the experiment, I think," one of the Ba'al's suggested as the human struggle to stand. Heat radiated off of him.

Ba'al lunged for the two remotes but he was too slow. They flew across the room and crashed against the far wall of the great chamber. So he reached instead into his jacket pocket, for the button that would set off the nano-bombs.

"Wait!" another Ba'al shouted after the button had been pressed.

Ba'al turned to see a silver cloud, that had been shooting towards him from the human, explode. He dived just in time to avoid the explosion.

This was not part of the plan. Ba'al saw himself running for the remotes that had been thrown to the far wall, but he was afraid the experiment might already be too far out of control.

His other self had moved to help him up. "It might be time for a strategic retreat."

Ba'al took another look at the human before making his decision, "No. Look."

Whatever strength the human seemed to have summoned to accomplish that much was failing him. Dr. McKay stumbled forward.

_His mind buzzed and burned with over-expenditure. His mental strength was spent. Rodney knew he wouldn't be able to do that again, much less save his friends. Despair overwhelmed him as his legs gave way. John, Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon. They would die and it would be his fault. He had killed them. Without seeing, he was aware of the two Goa'uld approaching him, to restrain him again. What would Sheppard do? Sheppard would go down fighting._

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"Triplets?" Sheppard tilted his head and stared at the unexpected sight. The three men who had been skulking towards Rodney turned to look at the source of the question. Behind the three spooky look-a-likes a ghostly pale Rodney showed no signs of recognition as he collapsed to his knees.

Rodney was hurt.

The three team-mates raised their weapons and fired at Rodney's abductors, and three targets dropped to the ground.

Teyla and Ronon took up guard positions while Sheppard ran for McKay.

"McKay!?" Sheppard breathed in shock when he was close enough to get a good look at Rodney. The kneeling man was beyond pale, and his eyes were definitely not their normal colour. Sweat drenched his hair. Two black things with blinking lights were stuck to his head. What the hell had they done to him? "Don't worry McKay. Beckett will have you as good as new in no time."

He knelt to help McKay up, and was thanked by a fist across his jaw. "Ow! McKay!"

McKay gave no sign of hearing the cry of pain.

"I'm trying to help! Snap out of it McKay." Sheppard commanded as he stood upright. "We've got to get you out of here."

He was rewarded by a punch to the gut, and a knee to the chin as he doubled over, and second punch to the chest that sent him sprawling. Damn, he'd taught McKay that move. Why did the scientist have to choose now, of all times, to put it into practice?

By the time Sheppard regained his senses and stood, Ronon had both of McKay's arms held behind him in an unbreakable hold.

"Thought you could use a hand," The Satedan explained why he had left his post guarding the door with Teyla. "I think he's got a fever. He's almost too hot to hold, and he's getting hotter."

Sheppard reached for the black devices attached to Rodney's head and tugged. He received a sharp zap in return. "Gah!"

Another look at how messed up Rodney looked drove Sheppard to try again. He gritted his teeth through the shocks and pulled hard, to no effect. "They won't come off. Let's get him to the jumper."

It was then that a loud, distant, bang echoed through the ship and shook the floor.

"Now what?!" A bruised and battered Sheppard griped.

8888888888888888888

"Now what?" Elizabeth asked Hermiod when the Goa'uld ship shook and Ba'al cut off communications.

"We are detecting a series of escalating explosions, leading towards the ships primary power core. Your smaller ships should move to a safer distance." Another Asgard answered.

Elizabeth instinctually put her hand to ear piece, "Daedalus, did you hear that?"

"We did," Caldwell's voice answered. "All ships, return to the Daedalus. Jumpers too. Is Jumper One still inside the Mothership shields?"

Elizabeth couldn't help the uncomfortable knot that formed at hearing Caldwell's voice. "It is."

"You may also wish to know that the number of life signs within the Asgard ship has changed a number of times; reducing by two, increasing by three, then prior to the initial explosion, reducing again by three." Hermiod announced, as he narrowed his eyes at the Asgard who had been manning those sensors. "The doors to the Mothership also opened once."

"Informing you of activities with which the Asgard are not involved in served no purpose to our pledge of mediation at this time," the subject of Hermiod's glare defended.

Elizabeth nodded her thanks to Hermiod and switched to the secure channel that Sheppard and his team were on, "Colonel Sheppard, are you on the Mothership?"

"Elizabeth, yes," came the unsurprising response, "we've got Rodney and are headed back to the jumper."

"That's good news John," Elizabeth congratulated but quickly moved on, "But do you think you could pick up the pace? The Mothership is exploding."

"Oh!" Sheppard's voice cracked, "Is that what that is?!"

"Hermiod?" Weir followed Hermiod to what seemed to be another sensor panel, and asked with urgency, "Can you beam them out of there?"

"I cannot," Hermiod answered without turning from the sensor display, "The Mothership's shields are preventing such a course of action at this time, but I believe the explosions will cause them to fail shortly before the ship is destroyed."

"All fighters and jumpers are on board, we're moving to a safer distance." Caldwell informed.

Weir didn't have time to respond. She kept her attention on Hermiod, "How shortly?"

"Very," was the Asgard's dire answer.

All Elizabeth could do was watch as the bursts of flame erupting from the Mothership grew. Burning air rushed out of breached corridors and rooms, any one of which could have been holding her people. Then the ship broke apart in a ball of flame that was quickly snuffed out by the cold vacuum of space.

Elizabeth was almost afraid to ask. "Did you get them?"

"They, and your jumper, are on board." Hermiod affirmed.

But Elizabeth's relief was short lived. When two Asgard approached Hermiod and started speaking with him in their native language, and some others turned to listen while several simply vanished in a familiar flash of light, Elizabeth knew something was wrong. When it didn't look like they were going to let her into the loop of their own accord, Elizabeth interrupted them, "What is it?"

"Come," Hermiod answered, and in a flash she was standing with him in another room, bathed in a soft green glow.

Small green globes of light floated around a human form suspended in a beam of light. A small gathering of Asgard were clustered around him, muttering quietly and looking at hand-held equipment. One Asgard stood at a podium-like console. Teyla, Ronon, and Sheppard stood in the shadows, to one side of the Asgard, looking helpless.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as she approached the circle. Rodney hanging there, suspended in the air. His skin was so pale she didn't see how he could be alive. But the proof was the watery sound each time he took a small breath. Bleached blue eyes stared unblinkingly at nothing. Worst of all was the single tear of blood that lay frozen, on his cheek. He must have been in such pain.

Elizabeth swallowed and found her voice. "What have they done to him?"

"That is what we are trying to ascertain," an alien voice answered.

Another Asgard seemed to sense that more elaboration was expected, "The subject is damaged. The overlying condition appears to be connected to the foreign objects which are attached to the subjects cranium. We are attempting to remove these objects safely. We will know more once we have succeeded, but we must hurry."

An annoyed mutter from the shadows reminded Elizabeth that the rest of Rodney's team was here. "I wish they'd stop calling him 'the subject'," was Ronon's complaint.

The Asgard continued to mutter among themselves in their strange sounding language. Then one reached up and removed the round object from Rodney's temple. Rodney's eyes returned to their normal shade of ocean-blue almost immediately.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth asked, hoping for some sign of recognition.

"He cannot hear you," an Asgard advised.

Rodney's eyes drifted closed as the second device dropped from his forehead, and the Asgard returned to muttering amongst themselves.

Elizibeth turned to Hermiod, who had wandered over to stand with Sheppard and his team.

The alien engineer shrugged.

After a few more minutes of listening to the strange alien race mutter, Teyla approached the cluster and asked, "Can you help him?"

A few of the Asgard heaved a great sigh before one of them turned to answer her,

"We believe that the subject," the Asgard paused and amended "your Dr. McKay, is repairable. It will take time. Perhaps you should wait in the comforts of your earth ship, Daedalus."

"We'd like to wait here." Sheppard was quick to answer.

The Asgard narrowed black eyes, "As you wish."

There was a flash, and the small group of humans found themselves in another sparse room.

"I guess this is the waiting room." Ronon suggested after a brief look around him.

Another flash signalled the arrival of some comfortable looking chairs of earth design.

"Guess so," Elizabeth agreed, and prepared herself to wait with the worried team-mates and friends. They should probably try to think about something else. "What happened to your face."

Sheppard grimaced ruefully and rubbed his sorely bruised jaw, "It's a long story."

"McKay decked him," Ronon supplied eagerly, ignoring the glare Sheppard threw his way.

"Decked?" Elizabeth repeated in surprise. Let alone wondering why Rodney would do that, the science member of the team hadn't exactly been doing well in hand-to-hand practices the last she saw. "As in just landed a punch? Or floored?"

"Floored," Ronon answered, with mixed prize and amusement.

"Rodney?!" it hardly sounded like something the physicist was capable of. She wouldn't call him gentle, exactly. But his most violent weapon was his mouth. "In one hit?"

"In three," Ronon supplied with a smug grin.

"I taught him that move." Sheppard defended sullenly.

Teyla seemed to think it only fair to turn the tables on Ronon, "and how are your ribs feeling, Ronon?"

From the sounds of it, and the sullen look Ronon through Teyla before gingerly taking one of the seats, Rodney had gotten at least one good hit on the Satedan as well.

"He was not himself," Teyla explained to Elizabeth, feeling the need to defend their team mates actions. "He was… delirious."

"And scared," Ronon added. There had been a lot of adrenaline behind those punches.

They fell into sombre science. Perhaps finally, for the first time, beginning to understand what it was that Dr. McKay had been running from.

88888888888888


	30. Awakening

Chapter 30 - Awakening

_Am I dead?_

The single question floated in Rodney's mind as he slowly regained consciousness.

_I must be dead. There was no way I could have survived. No wait, I'm reasoning. Can a dead man reason? Well, I've never been dead before so I have no actual empirical evidence to prove that a dead man can't reason. So maybe I'm dead._

He took a deep breath and cool, refreshing air flooded into his lungs.

_Oh no. Dead people don't breath! _

Rodney's heart sped up at the confirmed failure of his last hope, his final plan of escape.

_Dead people don't have racing hearts. _He observed, as if he needed any further confirmation of the damning prognosis_. _

_Wait! That means the ship didn't blow and Elizabeth and Sheppard and Teyla and Ronon might still be alive. If I lay still, maybe Ba'al won't notice I'm awake yet. _

_I don't hurt anymore. Am I in a sarcophagus? That would explain why it's so dark. Then again, maybe it's dark because I am dead and it's only the memory of a heart beat and breathing that I'm feeling. Like when someone looses a limb and they can still feel it. That's possible. Right? Wait a minute, why am I asking myself questions in my own head. Oh great. I'm crazy. Crazy and dead._

_I wonder if I can haunt Sheppard._

"Dr. McKay," A voice, alien yet somehow familiar, broke through Rodney's thoughts, "Perhaps you should open your eyes."

_Oh. _

Rodney opened his eyes and looked at the small gathering of Asgard staring at him with big, black, dispassionate, alien eyes. One of them looked somewhat less dispassionate than the others, even concerned, and somehow familiar, "Hermiod?"

"Yes," the Asgard, who honestly looked very much like all the other Asgard, confirmed.

Rodney blinked in confusion as he looked around him at the beam of light that still held him, suspended, "I'm not dead."

"You are not." The alien who had been identified as Hermiod confirmed in an overly patient tone.

"And I'm not on a Goa'uld Mothership." Rodney observed as he struggled to get his bearings.

Hermiod narrowed his eyes. "You are on an Asgard science vessel."

Rodney gaped incredulously, "How?"

"You were rescued." Hermiod stated in a tone of mild annoyance before turning to one of the other Asgard, "Are you certain his mind is not still damaged?"

The other Asgard blinked dispassionately, "We are certain. However, humans are easily confused."

"Hey!" Rodney scowled defensively. "It's hardly my fault that I haven't been fully briefed in the events that led to… this." He gestured helplessly to the light that still held him suspended.

The Asgard seemed to take that as the queue to put him down. The light vanished as soon as he touched the ground. Hermiod spoke to the others in Asgard, and they each vanished from the room, leaving Rodney and Hermiod alone.

"The Daedalus was sabotaged by one of your scientists, under the influence of Goa'uld mind control." Hermiod explained, "This Asgard vessel was the nearest available to assist. From this vessel, Dr. Weir was able to stall Ba'al while the Daedalus underwent repairs. Colonel Sheppard and his team were able to board the Goa'uld vessel to attempt a rescue, but in the end it was a series of explosions on the vessel which knocked down the shields and allowed us to beam you all to safety. The Goa'uld vessel was completely destroyed."

Rodney smirked at the irony. It somehow figured that his plan to destroy himself had been what had saved him in the end. "You contacted the Asgard?"

"I did not," Hermiod shook his head, but then added, "But I would have, had I known a vessel was in the area. General O'Neill contacted Thor, and Asgard High Command, several hours ago to request assistance. He told us of the Goa'uld's intentions, and of your past. SG-1 has been investigating the matter for some time."

"Unbelievable," Rodney groaned, "Does everyone in the universe know now?"

"That would be unlikely," Hermiod tilted his head thoughtfully, "however, to quote an Earth saying, the cat is quite out of the bag."

"The bag's been vaporized," Rodney pouted disconsolately.

"Indeed it has," Hermiod agreed matter of factly.

"Where are we now?" Rodney asked, then quickly amended, "And I know we're on an Asgard ship, I mean where in space."

In answer, one of the walls turned into a view screen, displaying the planet Lantea.

"We are in orbit, over Atlantis." Hermiod answered needlessly.

Rodney turned and looked at the view, conflicted. Atlantis wasn't the perfect hiding place that it once was. He was exposed. His future was uncertain, at best. His presence there had caused so much harm. Atlantis was nearly destroyed. People had died. One of his own scientists had been subjected to mind control. "The Asgard don't do asylum. Do they?"

"We do not." Hermiod lied, then spoke honestly, "I do not think you would like it among us. And your people have need of you."

Rodney clenched his fists and glared down at the city he loved, "You should have just left me to blow up with the ship."

Hermiod stared up at the human, finding this behaviour quite inexplicable, "Why?"

"It's safer for everyone." Rodney spat bitterly, "Atlantis was nearly destroyed, Bobby Freeman and his Mother are dead and who knows who else. And I know too much. What if the Goa'uld or the Wraith or someone else got hold of me again? I could take over Atlantis single-handedly without breaking a sweat. I blew up a solar system! If the enemy, any enemy could get that knowledge out of me and use it to destroy Atlantis, or earth, it's just too great a risk. I'm a liability."

Hermiod stared up at the human for a few moments more before he formed what he felt was a suitable response, "I had thought that you were intelligent for a human being. I am not accustomed to being mistaken."

Rodney's jaw momentarily dropped at the insult to his precious intellect, then he glowered defensively and pointed at the Asgard, "Hey!"

Hermiod calmly continued, "Col Carter, and the rest of SG-1 have been abducted by enemy races and had their minds probed many times. Not only do they not wish they had died on these occasions, they still continue to risk travelling through the gate."

Rodney's mouth snapped shut. Hermiod was right. The combined knowledge of SG-1 had to be more dangerous than his alone. O'Neill probably knew all the weak points in Earths defence. Jackson knew everything that would be needed to infiltrate Earths culture. And what he loved most about Carter was that she was almost as smart as him. In physics she could give him a run for his money. If captured, when captured, they would prove a major liability in the wrong hands. Thus, it begged the question, "Why?"

"Because the benefit to your race is greater than the risk." Hermiod answered, as if realizing this for the first time himself. "Risk cannot be completely avoided, Dr. McKay. However, you can increase the odds of a positive outcome by surrounding yourself with trustworthy allies."

Rodney looked back at the planet, his home, "How do I know that I won't just get them and me killed, or worse?"

"You do not." Hermiod answered bluntly, "Nor do you know if any one of them might cause the same."

Rodney turned to Hermiod and spread his arms incredulously, "Then what's the point?!"

"I do believe, Dr McKay, that there is unlikely to be a single challenge that one of you faces which your combined resources will be unable to overcome." Hermiod blinked calmly back at the emotional human, "Do you not find comfort in companionship with your colleagues, and friends?"

"Sometimes," Rodney admitted reluctantly, "Ok, yes, but…"

"As I have seen they do in you." Hermiod interrupted. "That is the point. You risk trusting in each other, because together you are made stronger and better. Do you not face many dangers together and survive them because you are together?"

Rodney nodded thoughtfully, and an invisible weight seemed to lift from him as he turned back to face the planet, "You're right."

"Of course," Hermiod agreed immodestly, "It is gratifying to find that I have observed your race well enough that I am now giving lessons on being human to a human."

"Hey!" Rodney frowned.

If Hermiod was aware that he'd insulted the human again, he didn't seem to mind. "The people of Atlantis have been extremely worried for you; in particular Colonel Sheppard and those of your team. I do not see the need to tell them that you requested asylum, or regretted your survival. Your fragile human mind was clearly momentarily overwhelmed."

"Fragile?!" Rodney balked and raised a finger to punctuate his next words. "Now see here!" But whatever he was going to say was lost in the beam of light that sent him down to Atlantis.

Another flash of light soon followed. Hermiod released a laboured sigh before acknowledging the presence of the other Asgard, "You object?"

The Captain of the Science Vessel stepped out of the shadows, "Was it wise to allow him to return to his people, knowing what he is?"

"He did not choose his condition." Hermiod reminded.

The other Asgard looked down at the planet, "Does that make him less dangerous?"

"I believe it does." Hermiod assured, then added, "But, the point is moot. Our laws forbid us to intervene in the genetic evolution of a species."

The other Asgard nodded once, "Yes, but we could have let him die."

"A choice which would not have endeared us to our allies," Hermiod reminded with more than a hint of irritation. He had fought and won this point already. "Your disagreements are best addressed in a report to the High Council. I am prepared to defend my decisions."

It was the other Asgard's turn to narrow his eyes, "No doubt, Thor will support your decisions. Your time among the humans has changed you."

"No doubt," Hermiod agreed without the slightest hint of offence. "It is time I returned to the Daedalus."

A flash of light left the Asgard captain standing alone, shaking his head in dismay.

888888888888

The door to Elizabeth Weirs office was uncharacteristically closed, and her curtains drawn far enough to ensure her conversation with General Landry remained utterly private. Her focus was entirely on the monitor displaying his secure broadcast from earth. As ever, she was acutely aware of the need for these conversations to be short and to the point. Precious ZPM power was being eaten with each passing minute.

Her hands lay folded on her desk in front of her. She knew the gesture made her look more focussed and in control, though few knew the true purpose was to keep her from fidgeting at times like these. "With the help of the Asgard, Dr. McKay has been recovered. He's still with them now. They say that he is repairable, and he will no longer be in immediate danger."

"What does no longer in immediate danger mean?" the General asked with a hint of irritated concern.

"They said he would be in good health, for a human, but I get the feeling they're not telling us everything," Elizabeth explained, equalling his irritation.

At that the General nodded understandingly. The Asgard were notorious for being cryptic. "Well, congratulations on getting him back. That said; special provisions will need to be made for Dr McKay to receive a full debriefing. At least one former agent's involvement has been confirmed. There is concern that there could be others. But, understandably, the CIA doesn't want any of their classified agents, or more sensitive missions, to be compromised. Fortunately, one of your marines is uniquely qualified as ex-CIA so they have agreed to allow him full access. He's a good man. You can trust him to know where his priorities lie and to keep in confidence classified details of both the Stargate Program and CIA operations."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in irritation, "After all this, they're still not willing to offer full disclosure?"

"Of course not," General Landry confirmed ruefully, "And neither are we, for that matter. I know it's not the ideal situation, diplomatically. But did either of us really, realistically, expect anything more?"

Elizabeth sighed and leaned back in her chair, "I suppose not, but still, aren't we supposed to be on the same side?"

"This is the best I could do." General Landry's tone told her he agreed with her completely, but mending the rift between government agencies was a battle for another day. "Dr McKay will be asked questions about specific operatives he's worked with in the past, the identities of whom must be protected. We'd bring him back here, but we're still rounding up Trust operatives on our end. I don't feel comfortable giving him the all clear to come back to earth yet. This goes high, Elizabeth, and deep. We're pulling a Goa'uld out of the neck of one of the Presidents chief advisors as we speak."

"Oh my god!" Elizabeth breathed in alarm.

Landry pursed his lips grimly, "My sentiments exactly. Thanks to the cooperation of Colonel Carter and Mr Woolsey we expect to have uncovered and eliminated the full extent of the infiltration in the United States within a few months."

"Woolsey?" Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up at that.

"Woolsey." General Landry confirmed.

'Dr Weir.' Elizabeth's hand flew to her earpiece, 'We've just received confirmation that Dr McKay has been beamed down to the infirmary.'

"Thank you!" Elizabeth answered then explained to Landry, "Rodney's in the infirmary."

"Then we'll end our meeting here. I'm transmitting full instructions of how to proceed with the debriefing in an encoded file."

Elizabeth nodded, "Yes General. Thank you," and wasted no time in vacating her office, leaving Landry alone on her monitor.

He leaned forward a bit and glanced around as though he could somehow see around the view screen, "I guess you'll read that later then. Dismissed."

8888888888888888

"Do you know what your problem is?" Mitchell watched his pacing team-mate turn a glare of irritation onto him.

"Here we go again," Daniel muttered quietly to Teal'c. Sam and Mitchell had been at it off and on for hours. He'd given up trying to keep the peace.

The Jaffa warrior was fairly deep in the sleep substituting meditation called Quel'nurim. Daniel wished bitterly that he could ignore the bickering as easily.

The SG-1 team had solved their case. They had unravelled the Goa'uld infiltration all the way to the White House. They'd traced the Trust, and the NID, all the way to their origins and the earliest Trust infiltration within CIA and probably other organisations. They had even figured out the plan to kidnap McKay and sent some Asgard to help with the rescue. All in all, it was a job well done. And, as far as Mitchell was concerned, their job was done. They had done all that they could. So why were they still hanging around the base when they were all obviously tired.

The answer was because when Daniel, Teal'c, and Mitchell had all been ready to head home, they'd noticed that Sam was still brooding in her office. Which brought them to Mitchell's not-so-sensitively put question.

"No, oh wise leader," Sam smiled sarcastically and narrowed her eyes further, "please do explain to me why 'I'm' the one with the problem?!"

Mitchell smiled unflappably, "You're too nice."

"Too nice," Sam looked utterly mystified, "What does that have to do with… anything? And since when is 'niceness' a problem?"

"From everything I've heard, this guy is arrogant, obnoxious, and insulting every chance he gets. He's a jerk. He wanted to give Teal'c up for dead. And he's constantly coming onto you." Mitchell explained patiently.

"What's your point?" Sam snipped.

"My point is why do you care?" Mitchell asked as though it were obvious.

"He's one of us," Sam answered sharply.

"He doesn't seem to think so," Mitchell retorted.

"He's our foremost expert on Wraith technology." Sam retorted again, as though that alone should explain his value.

"You don't care about that stuff, and besides," Mitchell shrugged, "Aren't you always saying he's not nearly as smart as he thinks he is?

If the Goa'uld got away with him they'll probably hide him somewhere in this galaxy. Maybe even on earth." Sam offered another explanation.

"It would take them a few weeks to get here anyway." Mitchell pointed out, then continued shrewdly, "You know the Pentagon thinks that guy is the foremost expert on Gate technology too? What does that make you?"

Sam winced and folded her arms. She couldn't deny that she found that last part irritating as well, "Fine. I admit it. I like competition. It keeps me on my toes. And sometimes it can be fun. Whatever else McKay is, he's decent competition. But if you ever tell him I said that I'll…"

Mitchell raised his hands and backed off, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"You know," Sam continued, "If he's dead you won't be able to give him a piece of your mind."

A nervous knock on the door frame of Sam's office brought there attention to Dr. Lee. "Um. I hope I'm not interrupting."

"No," Sam gave a friendly smile, "but, why are you still here?"

Dr. Lee shrugged, "Oh, a bunch of us just didn't feel right going home until we knew if Dr McKay was ok. I mean, I guess we all know when we sign up for top secret projects that being kidnapped is a risk, especially on the Stargate program. But to actually have it happen is just, well…"

"Yeah," Sam and Mitchell both looked at each other in embarrassment. It seemed that no-one else had felt the need to make up excuses to be concerned for their acerbic colleague.

"Anyway," Dr Lee continued, "General Landry thought you might still be here too. He asked me to let you know that Dr. McKay has been recovered, and the Asgard even fixed him up as good as new. He also said to tell you that you all have tomorrow off."

Teal'c's eyes opened and he smiled, "That is excellent news."

Daniel frowned accusingly at Teal'c, "You were awake the whole time."

Sam let out a breath of relief and smiled, "Thank you."

Mitchell already had his jacket in his hand, "Great. What say we get some well-earned rest."

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The doors to the infirmary slid open to release an all too familiar sound, "Caaarson! Stop it! Gah! That damn penlight is blinding me!"

Elizabeth slowed as she entered the room. Rodney was half cowering, half glowering as he tried to wave away the physician. He appeared entirely normal.

"Now ye see here!" Carson squawked and waved his flash light aggressively. "Excuse me for being a tad worried, but if ye'd just tell me what was done to ye maybe I wouldn't need to run so many tests."

"I already told you about the cloning chamber, the scans, the samples, everything I ate, even those weird alien doodads. If you don't believe me then why don't you just ask the Asgard for a full a report?!" Rodney pointed upwards, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Rodney," Carson started with another huff of irritation., "You know I have, but they won't tell my anything that could reveal any of their precious advanced technology to us primitives. Since when do you have such a blind faith in alien medical science? And I know ye well enough to know you're holding something back."

"Elizabeth!" Rodney breathed her name as a sigh of relief as soon as he caught sight of her watching from the door, "Finally, a voice of reason. Would you please explain to this overeager witchdoctor that he is not even remotely likely to find anything wrong with me that the Asgard wouldn't have…"

His voice trailed off as he suddenly found himself in a tight hug. "Uh, Elizabeth." Rodney squirmed awkwardly. "It's ok. I'm fine. See! Good as new."

She released him and patted his shoulders bracingly, "Yes. So I see."

Rodney turned a smug look on Carson until she added, "Keep up the good work Carson. Let me know when you're ready to release him. I'll be in my office."

"What? But 'Lizbeth!" Rodney protested at her retreating back and looked as though he wished to follow her.

"Don't make me sedate you!" Carson threatened with a wave towards the drawer with the needles.

"I think I've been unconscious enough for a while, don't you!?" Rodney bit back.

The physician gave a wounded pout of defeat as he pocketed his flashlight. "Fine. I suppose ye seem well enough."

Rodney rolled his eyes and began counting off on his fingers the tests Carson had already run, "If by 'well enough' you mean blood pressure, normal, glucose levels, normal, heart rate, normal, pupil dilation, normal. OW!"

Carson smiled triumphantly at the needle now filling a large sample vial with Rodney's blood, "And when this comes back normal I'll almost be satisfied. But yer not leaving until you come clean."

"You snuck up on me!" Rodney pouted accusingly, "How is that even ethical?!"

Carson removed the needle and unceremoniously stuck a wad of cotton onto Rodney's arm for the sulking physicist to hold, "What aren't ye telling me?

"Your bedside manner really sucks." Rodney lamented. "I suppose it's better than Ba'al's at least."

"Oh, well thank you very much," it was Carson's turn to be sarcastic as he turned to seal and label the sample, "I'm going to keep asking as long as it takes."

Rodney sighed and stared down at the cotton wad he held on his arm, "You might want to look for any changes to the ATA gene, particularly enzyme levels."

The shuffling sound, of Carson sealing and labelling the sample bag, stilled, "I was afraid it was something like that." His voice was tight with concern and disappointment. "We discovered, after you'd been taken, that all of my research on ATA and your files had been stolen."

"Ba'al used it to develop his own series of treatments designed to incrementally boost the presence of the ATA enzymes with each treatment." Rodney confirmed.

"What size increments?" Carson asked stiffly, his own research being used to cause harm was his worst nightmare.

"I don't know." Rodney answered honestly. "Carson, it's stupid to blame yourself."

Carson swallowed and forced himself to ask calmly, "How many treatments?"

"Just one," Rodney eagerly answered as though that should make it better. "Carson, seriously, any true scientific advancement has the potential to be used for good or for harm. Every scientist knows it and accepts it and we cannot hold ourselves responsible for how people who take our research now or later use it. I mean, sure predict it where you can, prevent it when you can, direct it while it's in your hands but ultimately you can only do so much. You know that."

"Of course I know that!" Carson snapped angrily, then sighed, "But it helps to be reminded, thank-ye Rodney."

"Happy to share my genius where ever it's needed," Rodney gloated out of habit.

Carson rolled his eyes and slapped a life-sign detector into Rodney's hands, "Try it."

The scanner lit up and began taking various energy readings from the room.

"It feels normal," Rodney informed tentatively.

Carson held the medical scanner up to Rodney's head, "Aye. It looks normal."

He pocketed the scanner with an unsatisfied grunt, "Perhaps it didn't work. Or perhaps it was such a small increment that it won't matter. Just be sure to let me know if you feel anything unusual or if anything unusual happens."

Rodney was already headed towards the door, "I can't wait to see what those lab monkeys who call themselves scientists have been up to."

"Wait Rodney," Carson called after him, hand on his earpiece. He must have been calling Dr. Weir as she'd requested.

"What now?" Rodney groaned.

As if in answer the doors to the infirmary swished open to admit a pair of soldiers, Sheppard and Griffin.

"I'm sorry Rodney," Sheppard huffed awkwardly, everything in his posture screamed irritation, "but, well, you're not to be … reintroduced… to the population of Atlantis until you've been fully debriefed."

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Well fine then, let's assemble the team and meet in the briefing room."

"For lots of reasons, mostly security stuff," Griffin began in a too friendly tone, "I will be handling your debriefing, Dr McKay. Sergeant Griffin."

"Security 'stuff'?" Rodney repeated, nonplussed.

"And, you know, some confidentiality type issues between various interested parties." Griffin furthered his explanation.

Aghast, Rodney turned to Sheppard and pointed accusingly at Griffin, "He said 'confidentiality type issues!?'"

With a nod of his head and one of those military hand signals Sheppard sent Griffin to wait to the side so he could speak privately with Rodney.

"Rodney…" Sheppard began, carefully choosing his words.

The pause was all the space Rodney needed to begin his loudly whispered rant, "You are NOT leaving me with HIM!"

"He's good." Sheppard interrupted quickly.

"He can barely string a sentence together!" Rodney quickly retorted.

"You know I don't like this either and we would have a normal debriefing if we could, but we can't." Sheppard explained apologetically.

Rodney folded his arms stubbornly, "So, why him?"

"He's the only guy on base who has clearance with both the SGC and the CIA," Sheppard looked the stubborn scientist in the eyes, "and I trust him."

Rodney sighed and unfolded his arms.

"He's a good person," Sheppard added with a nod.

Rodney rolled his eyes disbelievingly and added a sarcastic, "Oh really."

Sheppard pursed his lips at the pure cynicism, "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think it would be alright, regardless of orders."

"Fine," Rodney relented and turned towards Griffin, who was looking irritatingly nonchalant as he waited.

Griffin clapped his hands together when he saw Rodney looking his way and threw an all too friendly smile, "If you would like to rest first, Dr McKay, please feel free. Anything you like can be brought to your quarters."

"Let's just get this over with," Rodney snipped and walked out the door, leaving Griffin to jog to catch up.

The last thing Sheppard heard before the doors closed was Griffin commenting on the weather. He could have sworn he'd warned him that Rodney hated small talk.


	31. Resolutions

Chapter 31 -

Chapter 31 - Resolutions

The air of Briefing Room Three felt stuffier than usual but the door remained closed, and even had their been windows they would not have been opened. Griffin lazily wiped a finger under his moustache to check for moisture, and leaned back. A gesture designed to make him look more at ease than he was, and hopefully approachable.

It often escaped the notice of the civilian scientist members of the expedition that the soldiers of Atlantis really were the best and the brightest. Many of them had degrees in the sciences themselves, if not the multiple masters that so many of the scientists boasted of. Griffin had studied psychology and was no stranger to handling unpleasant debriefings and black ops psycho-analysis for the CIA.

In fact, in his early career he'd done countless debriefings for the CIA. It made him nervous then, and it made him nervous now. When he'd transferred to the military and the Stargate Program he'd thought he'd never have to do one again. Not being the program psychiatrist had been one of the chief attractions of the job. But here he was, all over again. It was never easy, looking into a man and trying to assess how broken he was, whether he was repairable, or whether he was a risk.

Griffin looked up from the secure lap-top holding all the classified documents for this case, and at the man he was tasked with debriefing this time and, more importantly, analyzing. The civilian scientist was sitting uncomfortably, and irritably, across from him. It was obviously strange for both of them, being there like this.

"Could we please get this over with," The scientist complained in his usual caustic tone, "I don't have all day."

Actually, Dr McKay did have all day. Dr Weir had no intention to clear him to go back to work until he'd had a good long rest. But arguing the point served no purpose.

Griffin leaned forward casually, "So, can you do any neat tricks?"

The scientist stared at Griffin for a few moments, flabbergasted, before leaning forward and enunciating, "Can I do any neat TRICKS?!"

"That's right." Griffin calmly confirmed his question, entirely unaffected by the scientists usual theatrics.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at the broad, balding, man, "Who are you again?"

"Griffin," he advised for the third time that day, and decided then that Dr. McKay was definitely faking being bad with names. He suspected it was meant to make him feel insulted and throw his concentration. He smiled to show that he wasn't bothered by the 'forgetfulness'.

"And why are you here?" Rodney intimated the question 'What makes you qualified to do this, rather than anyone else?'

Griffin smiled disarmingly. He knew that, with his moustache, he had a fatherly look that tended to set others at ease, "Colonel Sheppard did tell you he trusted me."

Rodney snorted, "Do you mean the guy who blindly trusted the honesty and integrity of a sexy complete stranger who turned out to be a lying Ancient, or did you mean the guy who trusted a psycho in a drug induced craze to stick to the plan and let us trick him into taking him home to Atlantis? Oh wait. That's right. That was both HIM!"

"I promise I'm not a sexy ancient," Griffin dead-panned, "But I am the only one with both the needed CIA and SGC clearances, as Colonel Sheppard told you. So General Hammond and Dr. Weir asked me to run the debriefing. Well, mostly General Hammond. So...?"

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "So?"

"Neat tricks?" Griffin gently reminded.

Rodney rolled his eyes, and seemed to think that his best choice was to cooperate and get the whole thing over with. "I suppose."

"That must be cool." Griffin baited, watching the scientist reaction carefully.

The scientists eyes narrowed in irritation and he seemed to swallow whatever biting response had been his first instinct to give, which told Griffin that McKay really did just want to get this over with. "Not really. The most powerful thing I can manage is a migraine."

Griffin leaned back and tilted his head, "Then why did the Trust, Goa'uld, or whatever, want you?"

Rodney folded his arms and scowled, "Or whatever? I thought you read all this in the reports."

"I did." Griffin conceded, "But I want to hear it from you. You know, debriefing. So…"

The scientist shifted his gaze away with a theatrical eye roll, which settled somewhere on the table, "Because with the right, unpleasant, tweaking I have the potential to do much more. If they can figure it out in me then they can figure out how to do it in others."

"And make super hosts." Griffin filled in.

"Pretty much," Rodney confirmed.

"That would suck," Griffin stated stupidly and, as expected, that brought the scientist to look at him again, albeit with a look that screamed 'you're an idiot.'

"What's it like?" Griffin pressed on casually, as though running down a list of questions, rather than carefully studying the scientist.

"What?" McKay spat bitterly, "The migraine? Painful!"

Griffin nodded, "I meant the superpowers."

"I don't have super powers," the scientist responded quickly.

Griffin simply looked meaningfully down at the report in front of him.

"I wouldn't call them super powers." Rodney amended, "Look, it's difficult to explain."

Griffin nodded, "I can imagine."

"No, actually, you couldn't. If you could it would be easy to explain." The scientist bit out in frustration. "Super powers are fun things you read about in comic books that you get INSTEAD of all the nasty side effects like agony and imminent death, and they can be controlled. Believe me, if I could fly or even leap over tall buildings in a single bound I would be ecstatic! Look, everything that happened to me is in the report. Can we please just skip the morbid walk-through?"

"Fair enough." Griffin agreed. He'd learned what he needed to from this line of questioning. But still, a part of him wished he could put off the next phase of the debriefing a little bit longer. The misused civilian had enough to deal with, and clearly just wanted to get some time alone to do so, Griffin hated to add more.

He pushed aside the laptop holding classified SGC reports, and opened the one holding the CIA files, "There's been a few things happening on earth that you need to know about. And I've been asked to see if you can fill in a few blanks. McKay, do you remember David Anders? You worked with him in the CIA."

"Mr. Anders? Across the street?" The scientists eyebrows shot up in surprise then furrowed fretfully. "Why?"

"What was your impression of him?" Griffin ventured tactfully. With luck, McKay already had an inkling that he'd been an untrustworthy, traitorous, freak.

Rodney shrugged and fidgeted nervously, the wheels clearly turning in his head as he rambled out his answer, "Nice old guy, though he's become sort of eccentric. He was always a work-a-holic. I think their idea of retiring him was telling him he was guarding me or something. I think it makes him happy."

Words momentarily escaped Griffin, it was never easy to tell an agent they'd been betrayed by one of their own. It was proving monumentally less easily to break it to a civilian who had been betrayed by the organization that should have protected him.

McKay broke off his ramble, and when Griffin didn't immediately respond with another question he put voice to the question that had launched his nervous ramble, "They didn't kill him too? Did they?"

"He's alive," Griffin assured ruefully, but his friendly smile had been replaced with a look of regret. "But he was working for the Trust."

"You mean they used that mind control on him? For how long?" McKay asked, still concerned for the old man.

"He was working for the Trust long before the Stargate program ever existed. It's unlikely that he was the only one." Griffin watched as the other man's eyes grew distant.

An agent would either direct his anger at his enemies, and be in danger of becoming obsessed with revenge, or direct his anger at himself and be in danger of self-destructing, or even blame his government and become as security risk. The worst reaction he'd seen was none. That agent had gone insane. Griffin watched carefully for any hint of these in McKay.

"I see," Rodney answered quietly. "You know, he's the one that thought I should test for MENSA."

"We know," Griffin advised. Still watching, and waiting.

"He arranged for me to have my own place. He helped me get my drivers licence, and my first car." The scientist looked distant, as though lost in some memory.

"McKay?" Griffin tried to pull the man back to the present. Brooding never helped.

"He once told me that it was my responsibility to use my intelligence for the betterment of humanity." McKay continued, his expression darkening. "He recommended me for all the most interesting assignments. He even arranged all the university courses I asked for. All at the protests of the agent assigned to baby-sit me. He thought I was taking on too much for my age."

Griffin knew he was referring to Agent Henry Fox, the man whose team had first located McKay when he was hiding out in Disney World and who had made McKay his personal responsibility. Griffin hoped that Agent Fox, at least, would turn out to be clean.

"Are you alright, Dr. McKay?" Griffin asked tentatively. Anger seemed to be radiating off of the oddly silent man, then the walls shot up and the genuine anger was replaced with the same mock irritation that had been present throughout the interview.

"Of course I am," the scientist snapped defensively, "Let's just get this over with, and would you please stop calling me Dr. McKay?"

At this, Griffin's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "What should I call you?"

"My name," Rodney snapped as though addressing a complete idiot. "You claim you've been with the Atlantis program from the beginning. How many near-death experiences do you think we should share before you can drop the formality?"

"Fair enough, Rodney," Griffin acquiesced in understanding. The civilian had chosen his own intelligence, and consequently his qualifications, as the focus of his blame and anger.

"I presume you need to question me about my CIA involvement then?" McKay lifted his chin arrogantly and asked in a business-like tone.

Griffin nodded quietly and pulled out a pile of pictures, "These are people, both agents and civilians, who we know to have had contact with Agent Anders over the years. Can you tell me if you recognize any of them?"

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The next few hours dragged slowly, with Dr. McKay refusing any breaks and the only interruptions being for the barely touched meal and snacks Griffin had delivered by a marine on stand-by, along with a large coffee urn that had been emptied and refilled twice.

It was now three am, and Griffin was struggling to keep his eyes from glazing. After much argument and insistence, Dr. McKay had commandeered the laptop and had been typing everything he knew about every individual in the pictures provided and, projects they'd been involved in, and projects he'd been involved in, along with any technical details he could recall. The scientist seemed to be on his fourth wind.

Griffin had been reluctant to release control of the laptop at first, thinking it would make it more difficult for him to assess the scientists reactions, but was willing to try. It turned out that Dr. McKay was much more of an open book when he wasn't chattering and in constant motion.

When McKay came upon an agent he'd worked closely with, the doubt was there for all to see as the scientist wondered if this one, too, had been working for the Trust. Anger and embarrassment were abundant whenever he came upon a file that lauded his own intelligence and particular suitability to an assignment.

"There," McKay abruptly stopped typing and looked energetically up at Griffin, but to the seasoned de-briefer it was obviously a false energy that came from too much coffee and a need to seem normal. "What's next?"

"You're done," Griffin announced with a large stretch and a groan as his neck popped. "I suggest you go to bed, and sleep in as late as you like, Rodney. I know I intend to."

"Oh," McKay answered, with an air of 'already?' "Well then, no offence, but let's not do this again sometime."

"None taken," Griffin smiled sleepily as the civilian turned and left the room.

The smile dropped as soon as Griffin was alone. At least he could report with reasonable confidence that McKay would not go hunting for revenge or compromise national security. But Dr. Heightmeyer would not be pleased with the undaunted façade that Dr. McKay was displaying. It would be bad if McKay tried to just permanently bury his feelings over this. Granted he'd done it before, but still Griffin didn't believe for a moment that anyone could hold that much inside them indefinitely without self destructing. The man had to be pretty damn angry. He had to let it out somehow.

Griffin closed the lap top and tiredly gathered the laptops and papers.

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"What are you doing?" Ronon asked bluntly as he slowed to a stop in front of Sheppard. He'd been jogging around the halls of Atlantis, on his usual route, when he'd spotted his team leader dozing in front of one of the secure briefing rooms.

Sheppard barely cracked his eyes open to answer lazily, "I'm on guard duty".

Ronon looked at the closed door, "They're still in there?"

"Yup," Sheppard answered, eyes closed again.

Ronon observed the dozing man, "You sure?"

"I'm awake." Sheppard huffed out defensively, as though the implication that he wasn't one hundred percent focussed on the job was insulting, "And I'm listening for them. I'd have heard them if they came out."

Sheppard yawned and peered at the door to the briefing room, as though staring at it could make it open sooner.

"Why are you really here?" Ronon folded his bulky arms and frowned down at his team leader. He was pretty sure that McKay could use a break from being hounded.

Sheppard glanced up at Ronon then dutifully back at the closed door, "I just want to check on Rodney."

Ronon grunted, "You already saw him. He's back to normal, for him."

"I didn't see him for very long," Sheppard insisted, "I just want to make sure he's ok."

"Beckett says the Asgard did a good job." Ronon persisted.

"That's not what I meant." Sheppard explained patiently and returned to dozing on the job.

Ronon rolled his eyes and was about to tell Sheppard how much he really was acting like one of those earth dogs that McKay was always comparing him to, when Rodney himself strode swiftly out of the interrogation room and down the hall.

Sheppard's eyes snapped open to see Rodney's back retreating swiftly down the corridor. Undaunted, the man seemed to assume that he hadn't been noticed and so bounded after, "Rodney! Hey, wait up!"

Rodney slowed and turned reluctantly, with hands raised as though to stop the Colonel from actually jumping up and licking him, "What do you need?"

"What?" Sheppard managed to look both offended and innocent at the same time, "I have to want something to say hello to a valued member of my team?"

"It's three in the morning!" Rodney squeaked, "You expect me to think you were just passing through?"

"Oh, well, uh," Sheppard was terrible at heart to heart stuff. If he were honest he'd say he was still a bit freaked out about nearly losing his friend and worried about his friends reaction to all of it, particularly after having been interrogated for hours. This would have been a lot easier with a beer and a pizza, and maybe a football game on a big screen. "Sorry about the rescue."

"Oh, so we're agreed that, as rescues go, it wasn't one of your best? Does this make us even for the time you got trapped in that ancient vortex cavern thing?" Rodney baited.

"I was trapped for months, Rodney!" Sheppard ground out. He hated being reminded of that.

"Oh please," Rodney waved dismissively, "So you got a free vacation with ANOTHER hot ancient chick, and I got a quintet of Dr Frankenstein's with serious identity issues."

"Ok… so we're even…ish." Sheppard allowed with a pout of reluctance and added McKay looking the way he had to the list of things he never wanted to be reminded of again, then he scowled as he realized he'd been misdirected into another boyish competition.

"How hot did you say she was?" Rodney pressed.

Sheppard chose to ignore that question, "Rodney, are you alright?"

"Oh, I've only been abducted by the Goa'uld and spent a day listening to melodramatic monologue's, while coming dangerously close to giving away information that could be used against the entire human race." Rodney exclaimed melodramatically, then shrugged, "So what?"

"So what?" Sheppard repeated disbelievingly.

Rodney just smirked at him, far too normally, "Twenty or so more days like that and I'll be catching up to SG-1."

"I'm not buying it Rodney," Sheppard pronounced in the hope that his friend would drop the act and have an actual conversation.

Rodney deflated with a sigh, "I'm just tired. Elizabeth has given me the day off. Well, actually she's given me as long as I want. So, I'm just going to go take a nap or something".

Sheppard stared as Rodney turned and walked swiftly away. Then he shook his head stubbornly and moved to follow, "McKay."

A strong hand clamped down on Sheppard's shoulder and pulled him back.

"He said he's fine. Let him go." Ronon advised strongly.

"He is definitely not ok." Sheppard rounded an incredulous look on the stronger man.

Ronon's grip didn't loosen, "Remember the day I found out my planet was destroyed? You made your men give me some space to think."

"You totally destroyed our work out room," Sheppard turned away from the corridor Rodney had escaped down and back to Ronon. He thought he was beginning to understand what the big guy was getting at.

"You let me," Ronon grinned, "Then you showed me football and we ate popcorn."

"Ya. I remember." Sheppard sighed resignedly. McKay might not be the type to go smash up a room, but he was the type to need some time alone to think. "Lorne, this is Colonel Sheppard. See that absolutely nobody disturbs McKay without getting the go ahead from me."

'Yes sir.' Lorne responded quickly.

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The winding halls and sparkling lights of Atlantis passed unnoticed as Rodney strode to his quarters with his head down. It was doubtful he'd meet anyone else, other than the odd patrolling night shift, or a particularly obsessive marine on a jog, at this hour; which was just as well because Rodney really didn't feel up to any inane attempts at conversation or to dealing with questions about the simplest of city workings from his own staff.

There were days when every human contact only served to remind him how incredibly stupid the whole world was, how different he was, and what it had cost him. Today wasn't a day when he thought he could take that.

The door to Rodney's quarters swished closed behind him and locked, finally leaving him alone to his thoughts. No sooner had the door closed than did the claustrophobia take hold. The walls of the room seemed to close in to suffocate him, but a quick mental command opened the door to his balcony and fresh air rushed in again.

He raised a shaking hand to his head. So much information was difficult to process at once. He didn't want to think about it. Maybe as long as he stood still he could avoid it. But with each breath the anger seeped out, and thought proved unavoidable. It hit him that even though he'd gone through great pains to be obsessively prepared and had been perpetually paranoid he'd failed to see danger when it was right in front of him, working along side him, living across the street from him.

It was clear to him now that he must have been born with a tattoo on his forehead that only other people could see. It read 'Easily Duped Genius Here.' At this point it was the only explanation that made sense to him.

He couldn't help but feel now that his parents were right; that, as his father had always said, he should have just kept his head down and out of trouble, and played hockey or something. Be a normal kid. If only he hadn't been so persistent, so stubborn, such a show-off, so desperate to be noticed.

Rodney slumped against the door and raised a shaking hand to his face. The CIA, the NID, how many times had he stupidly worked alongside, even for, the very people who were part of the Trust? How pleased had he been for their recognition and praise?

He lowered his hand and looked over at the wall of diploma's which normally served as such a comfort. Only now, they made him feel like an idiot. All he ever wanted was recognition. He wanted his intelligence to be noticed and appreciated rather than reviled. Well, it seemed he'd gotten himself noticed by all the wrong people.

It had all started with that one science fair project. After that, he'd been so pleased to be allowed to breeze through High School. He'd seen it as a way to escape his parents and meet other intellectuals who would appreciate his abilities. His eyes locked on that particular diploma, sitting on his dresser in its frame.

In two steps he was across the room and the frame hit the floor with a satisfying smash, quickly followed by other framed diploma's and certificates of achievement torn off the wall and tossed against the opposite wall in a frenzy of shattered glass and twisted frames.

Finally, his hand fell onto the large stuffed owl with an academic cap, but instead of throwing it, he held it. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, out of breath, staring at the cuddly stuffed owl, before thought returned to him. The large card that had come with the owl sat underneath it, untouched, pristine compared to the rubble of glass and broken frames that now littered the room.

He remembered Mrs. Freeman, and all the meals she'd shared with him. He remembered all the people in that beaten old apartment block. They'd believed in him. They'd believed he was a good person. They'd believed he'd do great things, good things, for humanity. He looked out at the view of the ancient city of Atlantis. Maybe, despite everything, he could still manage what they'd expected of him. Maybe he already had.

Dr Rodney McKay sat tiredly down on his bed, clutching his toy owl to his chest, and for the first time since before he could remember he cried. He cried himself to sleep.

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Kate Heightmeyer heaved a sigh as she pulled her eyes away from the long-risen sun and back to Griffin's report. Not for the first time since coming to Atlantis, she felt way out of her league. It was Kate's job to make sure Rodney had the tools to work through all this. But she had no idea how she was even going to get him into her office willingly and speaking openly. No doubt he'd want a ten step pamphlet to work through in his own time. The trouble was there were no ten step pamphlets for how to work through alien and secret organization abduction and experimentation. Although, given the record of the Stargate Program, perhaps it was time someone wrote one. The idea would have made her giggle if the situations weren't so serious.

A hesitant knock on her door drew Kate from her thoughts. Though she knew she could open her door with a thought, she stood out of habit and walked to the door before thinking in open. To her wonderment, there stood Dr Rodney McKay fidgeting nervously with a folded piece of paper.

"Rodney, I'm surprised to see you," Kate quickly wiped the fish-eyed look off her face and smiled welcomingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Do you have any appointments right now?" Rodney skipped straight to the point.

Kate stepped aside to invite him in, "My schedule is clear."

"Good, this won't take long," Rodney strode in and stood with his arms folded.

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He'd said that before the three hour discussion about his cat too.

Kate took her usual seat in the sofa overlooking the ocean view. Rodney remained standing, as usual. He never sat down until he'd relaxed into some fabricated story. Kate watched and waited patiently, not wanting to push him. The moments when he wasn't talking were almost always the most honest ones in these sessions.

Rodney paced for a moment before moving straight to his usual chair. But as soon as he had sat down he stood up again and returned to pacing. This was a new behaviour.

Finally Rodney turned to her, with his arms folded stubbornly, and announced, "I don't want to talk about it."

Kate blinked at him for a moment, before responding carefully, "Alright. I can't make you talk about anything that you don't want to. I'm just here to listen."

Rodney nodded once, seemingly satisfied at that, but then seemed at a loss as to what to say next.

"Although," Kate ventured shrewdly, "Would you mind narrowing down what you don't want to talk about?"

Rodney narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"A lot has happened," Kate quickly excused.

"Understatement," Rodney enunciated.

Kate just waited patiently while Rodney tapped his fingers thoughtfully.

"Alright," Rodney began, "I don't want to talk about ending up in the hands of the Trust again or that I didn't even know they were part of it the first time. I don't want to talk about the fact that they're now run by the Goa'uld and how very much more bad that is. I don't want to talk about my parents, or about the CIA, or any of that. I really, really don't want to talk about the fact that Bobby Freeman and his Mother, two more people, are dead because of me. Or more accurately, because my brain seems to attract freak job super-villain types that want to mutate me to use to their own 'take over the world' type ends. I mean, what the hell is that?! It's like a bad comic book. Or perhaps an episode of Dr. Who that was either too dark or too far fetched even to actually get produced! And most of all I don't want to talk about the fact that they at least partially succeeded. I don't want to talk about what I am or what I can do because frankly, I really don't know and I really don't want to know."

Kate nodded, "Then we won't talk about the things you don't like. Let's talk about what you would like to happen."

Rodney stepped forward pleadingly, "I just want to go back to my labs and do my job. And for that Elizabeth says that I need your stamp of approval."

Kate let out a small sigh of disappointment. Of course he wasn't here willingly. Still, "You like your work," she observed. At least that implied he had no designs on throwing in the towel, so to speak.

"Well," Rodney responded sarcastically, "I'm hardly here because I think the Wraith are an exciting perk. Am I?"

"That would be crazy," Kate joked lightly.

"Certifiably," Rodney agreed, "But seriously, this is the best place for me to make a real positive difference. I mean, the fate of galaxies hang in the balance here."

"Alright Rodney," at least he was being honesty, and she could see how returning to a bit of normalcy would he healthy for him now, "I'll sign you off. But I don't want you to use your work to avoid thinking and dealing with any of those things you don't want to talk about. It would be nice if we could meet regularly for a little while. And remember you can take some time for yourself, to relax. I have no doubt I will be the last to hear if you're overdoing it."

"What?" Rodney asked innocently, "I relax all the time!"

Kate levelled him with a disbelieving look.

"Can I help it if I find advanced scientific discovery enjoyable?" Rodney defended while already inching towards the door.

"Rodney," Kate stopped him, not quite willing to give up yet, "We've established what you don't want to talk about. Is there anything that you do want to talk about?"

That familiar conflicted look, which Kate had become so used to, passed through Rodney's eyes, "It's recently come to my attention that I've developed a tendency to keep people at arms length. Perhaps unhealthily so. I'm not sure I know how to stop. I'm not even sure I want to stop. But I'd like to want to… if that makes any sense."

It took Kate a moment to register that nothing Rodney had said contained stories about his cat, or awkward teenage moments that never could have happened. Kate could hardly believe her ears. She took a moment to compose herself. It wouldn't be professional for her to squeak with elation. "It makes sense to me. What made you feel this way?"

Rodney bit his lower lip and nervously tapped a finger against his leg. This was clearly difficult for him, "It would seem there are certain people who, for some reason or another and despite my efforts to the contrary, care about me. So I guess maybe they deserve a little more from me too. So, how would you suggest I stop?"

Pragmatic as ever, Rodney had given her a problem now he just wanted the solution.

"As you said, you've been keeping people at a distant for a long period of time. Habits like that are difficult to change. It's unlikely you'll be able to stop all at once. Rather, you change it with small steps. One decision at a time; by learning to recognize the behaviour when it happens and reacting as you choose, rather than by habit."

Rodney seemed to consider that, "Hm. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

He pocketed the folded bit of paper, and then he left. So ended the shortest and most productive session Kate Heightmeyer had ever had with Dr. Rodney McKay.

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What should have been a quick stop at the labs was lengthened by every single scientist feeling the need to stop him to say hello and express how pleased they were to see him in one piece. Not a few actually left their labs when they heard where he was and came to find him, claiming to need him to look at certain aspects of their projects. He just wanted to get his laptop and get an update from Radek, and he wouldn't consider looking at the present state of their projects until he'd gotten caught up on the reports detailing how they'd reached that state. He told them as much, in a not at all friendly way, which for some reason seemed to make them happy.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?" Lorne suggested when the mob had abated. He wore a concerned frown as he strolled into the lab.

"Picking up a laptop isn't supposed to be heavy labour," Rodney replied sarcastically as he tucked the laptop under his arm and strolled back out of the room.

Rodney figured he could decide how much recreational time he could afford after he'd been updated on the progress of his science teams various projects. The recent string of emergencies had without a doubt sent them way off schedule. It would be too easy to overlook an experiment left in a time critical, or even dangerous, phase in such conditions. No doubt Radek already checked over it all, but still two pairs of eyes were better than one and Rodney liked to see it for his own piece of mind.

As expected, Radek was in the jumper bay, repairing a recently damaged jumper. Rodney slowed his pace as he approached the jumper and soon found himself standing quietly in the entrance, just letting the familiar sound of Czechoslovakian curses and complaints wash over him. He smirked at the translation running through his head.

'Stupid piece of Ancient crap. You think if you don't cooperate we won't send you to scrap yard?!'

It was good. It felt normal.

'If Ancients are so advanced why do these designs hold no linear thought at all? Redundant systems wired through more redundant systems, all wrapped around teeny tiny vital life sustaining system. Is madness! Is like wiring CO2 filter through coffee maker. Coffee maker breaks, we all die!'

Rodney couldn't resist, "I maintain the opinion that coffee is every bit as vital as oxygen."

He smiled all the wider when Radek hit his head and cursed some more before extracting himself from the innards of the jumper and pointing accusingly at Rodney, "You! I knew it!"

"Knew what?" Rodney feigned innocently. He quickly began typing commands into his laptop while Radek's eyes were still watering, "I was just offering to get you some coffee."

Radek huffed in frustration at the evil genius, twisting words as always, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Rodney's typing, then picked up his own laptop to find the his own research safety reports for the day scrolling down his screen. "I hate it when you do that."

"I keep telling you, you need better security," Rodney advised, as if he wasn't the only person on base capable of hacking through Radek's security with such ease.

"You micro-manage. It is not healthy." Radek complained as he set aside his temporarily commandeered laptop and climbed to his feet. "But, it is good to see you are feeling yourself. Should you be working yet?"

"Cleared for light duty," Rodney answered with a gloating grin.

Radek rolled his eyes, "You are spoiled."

"Can I help it if I'm vital to the expedition?" Rodney teased with an air of arrogance, "The projects seem to be in good order. How are the jumper repairs going?"

Radek pouted around at the jumper.

"I'll let you get to it then!" Rodney declared cheerily.

But as he turned to leave the jumper he slipped his hand into his pocket. He paused mid step and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It had been on his pillow this morning when he woke up.

'Star Wars Marathon. Rec Room. Han shoots first. Whenever you're ready. You're bringing the popcorn.' … 'Ps. Cute Owl.'

It was in Sheppard's hand writing.

Rodney turned back to the Jumper, "Hey Radek."

Radek twisted his head uncomfortably to look at Rodney. He'd been moments from pulling himself back into the guts of the Jumper.

"Need a break?" Rodney suggested, "Star Wars in the Rec Room. Han shoots first."

Radek ruffled his thinning hair, "Perhaps it would be best to take my mind off these repairs for a while."

"Great," Rodney answered strangely as he seemed to study his friend, "and you're right."

"About what, Rodney?" Radek asked, unable to think what Rodney could be specifically referring to.

"Rozumim vam" Rodney answered flawlessly.

Radek's eyes grew wide, and took a moment to check that he had heard right. 'Rozumim vam', Rodney had said, 'I understand you.' Was Rodney actually admitting it? Or was it just another tease?

"But if you tell anyone I'll deny it," Rodney promised, then added with a snap pop, "Oh, and you're bringing the popcorn. See you there in twenty minutes."

And Radek was left in the jumper bay, gaping like a fish caught in the wake of the most frustrating and confusing man he had ever had the pleasure of working with.

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- Tokyo, Earth -

Ba'al took a deep breath of fresh, air-conditioned, humidified, Corporate Earth air. Two weeks in that modified scout ship had not been his idea of fun and he now looked forward to a hot shower, sauna, and massage. But first, he strode into the elevator and keyed in the password to take him to the lower levels of the office building.

"You're looking well," Ba'al greeted himself as he entered the sleek office.

Ba'al put down whatever paper work he'd been looking at and greeted himself with open arms. "It's good to see you made it back safely. I take it there was some trouble."

"A little more than expected but we have what we went for." Ba'al assured himself with a placating grin.

Ba'al returned to his seat and steepled his fingers with a thoughtful frown, "but Atlantis survives."

"Yes," Ba'als grin faltered, "but they also have what they want. We can be assured they have no reason, which they know of, to come looking for more trouble. No rescues. No vengeance. We couldn't have asked for a better resolution."

Ba'al reclined in his seat, "Then, everyone feels they have benefitted, and everyone is happy." He tipped a finger pointedly at Ba'al, "That's good business."

"Just the way we like it." Ba'al smiled shrewdly back.

Several stories up, at ground level, a receptionist smiled brightly at a handsome security guard as he took his post beside his colleague at the door. She never could have suspected that his uniform hid a closed stomach wound. She could no more have suspected him than the mass of suit and tie wearing workers crowding the streets with the blank expressions of commuters could have reason to guess that men walking among them had the same closed stomach wounds.

Far overhead several helicopters bearing crates labelled 'RELIEF' began their long journey to Africa. The sides of the helicopters bore a familiar company logo, and the writing, 'Make Poverty History.'

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- the end…. -

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Book Two:

What weren't the Asgard saying?

What connection could the Ori have to the mountain village?

An enemy thought defeated returns, more powerful.

A CIA enquiry leads someone to track down McKay.

Will Jeannie learn the truth about her brother?


End file.
